!(i    ::. 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 
THE   LIBRARY  OF 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Scctlott      (&JO(0 


/ 

HYMNS 


FOE,     THE 


SIC  K-E,  O  O  M 


Make  tis  glad,  according  to  th.e  days  wherein 
thou,  hast  afflicted  us." 


W.  I 


NEW-YORK: 

A.    D.    F.     RANDOLPH,     683    BROADWAY 

1860. 


d,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 
ANSON    D.    F.     RANDOLPH, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 


District  of  New- York. 


JOHN  A.  GRAY, 

Printer  &  Stereotyper, 

16  and  13  Jacob  St. 


PREFACE 


This  book  is  not  intended  for  the  mourner,  but  for 
the  sick ;  not  only  for  those  sick  unto  death,  but  for 
the  young  and  joyous,  laid  aside  it  may  be  for  a  few 
weeks,  struck  down  suddenly  by  sickness  or  by  acci- 
dent ;  for  the  aged  pilgrim,  bending  under  infirmities, 
slight  in  the  view  of  others,  but  to  him  the  shadow 
of  death ;  for  all ,  who,  from  any  bodily  weakness,  are 
cut  oif  from  active  employment,  and  while  earth's  busy 
noises  are  hushed,  may  lend  a  hearing  ear  to  that  voice 
which,  for  so  many  years,  has  charmed  in  vain,  or,  if 
long  loved  and  sought,  now  more  eagerly  welcomed  as 
the  voice  of  the  beloved,  consoling  and  comforting  in 
the  day  of  trouble.  The  hymns  are  not  all  those  which 
speak  of  sorrow  and  trial,  or  death  and  eternity — but 
the  only  other  theme  is  the  one  never  out  of  Wres;  and 
still  less  so  in  the  sick  chamber  —  Jesus,  the  great 
Physician,  Jesus  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life. 

There  are  many  books  for  the  sick-room,  containing 
poems  full  of  beauty  and  of  holy  consolation ;  but  they 
are  poems — not  hymns — and  they  who  have  watched 
beside  the  sick  and  dying  know  how  many  hours  there 


IV  PKEFACE. 

are  when  the  listless  mind  can  not  grasp  the  beauty  of 
the  idea,  or  follow  the  inequalities  of  the  rhyme — times 
when  an  old  verse  of  Watts  or  of  Doddridge,  learned 
in  childhood  by  the  knee  of  the  dead  mother,  or  heard 
many  a  year  ago  in  the  old  church  far  away  by  the 
homestead  in  the  shadow  of  the  hills,  will  go  right  past 
the  sickness  and  the  sinking,  and  thrill  through  the 
parting  soul,  as  if  it  caught  already  the  melodies  of 
heaven.  There  is,  therefore,  little  novelty  in  this  col- 
lection— little  has  been  sought  after.  The  meditations 
are  principally  from  the  pens  of  old  divines  ;  the 
greater  number  of  the  hymns,  those  which  have  been 
long  endeared  to  the  hearts  of  God's  people,  and  it  is 
hoped  that  they  may  still  be  to  them,  and  to  other,  as 
wells  of  living  waters,  from  which  many  a  thirsty  soul 
may  draw  refreshment  in  the  hour  of  need. 

H.  L.  P. 

Crotox,  Oct.  1859. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM. 


"  Lo,  I  see  four  men  loose,  walking  in  the  midst  of  the  fire, 
and  they  have  no  hurt ;  and  the  form  of  the  fourth  is  like 
the  Son  of  God."  —  Daniel  3  :  25. 

"  So  the  Christian  is  not  alone  when  he  is  cast  into  the  fur- 
nace of  affliction ;  though  all  things  may  seem  arrayed  against 
him,  one  walketh  with  him  whose  form  is  the  likeness  of  the 
Son  of  God." 

And  wilt  thou  now  forsake  me,  Lord  ? 

I  feel  it  can  not  be  ; 
No  earthly  tongue  can  ever  teU 

What  thou  hast  been  to  me. 

Through  all  the  changing  scenes  of  life 

Thy  love  hath  sheltered  me ; 
And  wilt  thou  now  forget  thy  child  ? 

I  feel  it  can  not  be. 

Thy  love  hath  been  my  heritage 

Through  many  a  weary  year  ; 
I've  trusted  to  thy  promises, 

And  thou  hast  dried  each  tear. 

In  life  or  death,  I  take  my  stand 

Where  I  have  ever  stood, 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  thy  cross, 

And  trusting  to  thy  blood. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-BOOM. 

And  then  when  youth,  and  health,  and  strength, 

And  energy  have  fled, 
The  shades  of  evening  peacefully 

Shall  close  around  my  head. 

And  when  in  all  the  helplessness 

Of  death  I  turn  to  thee, 
Thou  wilt  not  then  forsake  me,  Lord — 

I  feel  it  can  not  be. 


"  Unto  you  therefore  which  believe  he  is  precious."— 1  Pet. 
2:7. 

"  Heaven  is,  in  some  sort,  dearer  to  us  than  to  Noah — that 
Christ  is  there  not  only  as  God,  but  as  God  and  man." 

Oh  !  speak  of  Jesus !  other  names 
Have  lost  for  me  their  interest  now  ; 

His  is  the  only  one  that  claims 
To  be  an  antidote  for  woe ; 

It  falls  like  music  on  the  ear, 

When  nothing  else  can  soothe  or  cheer. 

Oh  !  speak  of  Jesus  !  of  his  power, 
As  perfect  God,  and  perfect  man, 

Which  day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour, 
As  he  wrought  out  the  wondrous  plan, 

Led  him,  as  God,  to  save  and  heal — 

As  man,  to  sympathize  and  feel. 

Oh  !  speak  of  Jesus  !  of  his  death  ; 

For  us  he  lived,  for  us  he  died  ; 
"  'Tis  finished,"  with  his  latest  breath, 

The  Lord,  Jehovah-Jesus,  cried : 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

That  death  of  shame  and  agony- 
Won  life,  eternal  life,  for  me. 

Yes,  speak  of  Jesus  !  while  mine  ear 

Can  listen  to  a  human  voice, 
That  name  my  parting  soul  will  cheer, 

Will  bid  me  e'en  in  death  rejoice ; 
Then  prove,  when  these  clay-bonds  are  riven, 
My  passport  at  the  gates  of  heaven. 


"All  my  springs  are  in  thee."— Ps.  87  :  7. 

"As  Israel's  water-springs  were  in  Canaan,  so  the  believer's 
springs  are  above  in  his  heavenly  inheritance  ;  therefore,  if  thy 
springs  of  comfort  be  but  few,  consider  that  thou  art  yet  in  the 
wilderness." 

Guide  me,  O  thou  great  Jehovah  : 
Pilgrim  through  this  barren  land  ; 

I  am  weak,  but  thou  art  mighty, 
Hold  me  with  thy  powerful  hand  : 

Bread  of  heaven, 

Feed  me  till  I  want  no  more. 

Open  thou  the  crystal  fountain, 

Whence  the  healing  streams  do  flow  ; 

Let  the  fiery  cloudy  pillar 

Lead  me  all  my  journey  through  : 

Strong  deliverer  ! 

Be  thou  still  my  strength  and  shield. 

Feed  me  with  the  heavenly  manna 
In  this  barren  wilderness  ; 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Be  my  sword  and  shield  and  banner, 

Be  my  robe  of  righteousness  : 
Fight  and  conquer 
All  my  foes  by  sovereign  grace. 

"When  I  tread  the  verge  of  Jordan, 
Bid  my  anxious  fears  subside  ; 

Foe  to  death,  and  hell's  destruction, 
Land  me  safe  on  Canaan's  side  : 

Songs  of  praises 

I  will  ever  give  to  thee. 


"  Is  his  mercy  clean  gone  forever  ?  doth  his  promise  fail  for 
evermore  ?"— Ps.  77  :  7. 
"I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee."  —  Heb.  13  : 5. 

"  The  sympathy  of  the  head  with  the  members  is  quick, 
constant,  tender,  perfect.  Such  is  the  sympathy  of  Jesus. 
Suffering  one,  Christ  alone  can  suitably  sympathize  with  thee  ; 
because  he  alone  can  so  sympathize  as  to  sustain,  sanctify  thy 
sufferings,  and  certainly  and  honorably  deliver  thee." 

Pensive,  doubting,  fearful  heart, 

Hear  what  Christ  the  Saviour  says  ; 
Every  word  should  joy  impart, 

Change  thy  mourning  into  praise  : 
Yes,  he  speaks,  and  speaks  to  thee ; 

May  he  help  thee  to  believe  ! 
Then  thou  presently  wilt  see 

Thou  hast  little  cause  to  grieve. 

Fear  thou  not,  nor  be  ashamed, 

All  thy  sorrows  soon  shall  end  : 
I  who  heaven  and  earth  have  framed 

Am  thy  husband  and  thy  friend  : 


HYMN'S   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

I  the  high  and  Holy  One, 

Israel's  God  by  all  adored, 
As  thy  Saviour  will  be  known, 

Thy  Redeemer  and  thy  Lord. 

For  a  moment  I  withdrew, 

And  thy  heart  was  filled  with  pain  ; 
But  my  mercies  I'll  renew, 

Thou  shalt  soon  rejoice  again : 
Though  I  seem  to  hide  my  face, 

Very  soon  my  wrath  shall  cease  ; 
'Tis  but  for  a  moment's  space, 

Ending  in  eternal  peace. 

When  my  peaceful  bow  appears, 

Painted  on  the  watery  cloud, 
'Tis  to  dissipate  thy  fears, 

Lest  the  earth  should  be  o'erflowed. 
'Tis  an  emblem,  too,  of  grace, 

Of  my  cov'nant  love  a  sign  ; 
Though  the  mountains  leave  their  place, 

Thou  shalt  be  forever  mine. 

Though  afflicted,  tempest-tossed, 

Comfortless  awhile  thou  art, 
Do  not  think  thou  canst  be  lost, 

Thou  art  graven  on  my  heart : 
All  thy  wastes  I  will  repair, 

Thou  shalt  be  rebuilt  anew  ; 
And  in  thee  it  shall  anpear 

What  a  God  of  lovo  can  do. 
1* 


10  HYMNS  FOE  THE   SICK-EOOH. 

"Likewise  I  say  unto  you,  there  is  joy  in  the  presence  of 
the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth."  —  Luke 
15  :  10. 

"  Christ  did  not  count  his  converts  by  thousands,  nor  yet 

by  hundreds,  nor  yet  by  tens — be  counted  them  by  units,  he 

valued  one  soul,  and  yet  at  last  shall  he  welcome  his  redeemed 

as  a  great  multitude  whom  no  man  can  number." 

Thou  art  my  hiding-place,  O  Lord  ! 

In  thee  I  put  my  trust ; 
Encouraged  by  thy  holy  word, 

A  feeble  child  of  dust, 
I  have  no  argument  beside, 

I  urge  no  other  plea ; 
And  'tis  enough  my  Saviour  died, 

My  Saviour  died  for  me  ! 

'Mid  trials,  heavy  to  be  borne, 

When  mortal  strength  is  vain, 
A  heart  with  grief  and  anguish  torn 

A  body  racked  with  pain ; 
Ah  !  what  could  give  the  sufferer  rest, 

Bid  every  murmur  flee  ? 
But  this,  the  witness  in  my  breast, 

My  Saviour  died  for  me  ! 

And  when  thine  awful  voice  comraan  Is 

This  body  to  decay, 
And  life  in  its  last  lingering  sands 

Is  ebbing  fast  away  ; 
Then,  though  it  be  in  accents  weak, 

And  faint  and  tremblingly, 
Oh  !  give  me  strength  in  death  to  speak 

Mv  Saviour  died  for  me  ! 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  11 

"  And  the  gates  of  it  shall  not  be  shut  at  all  by  day,  for 
there  is  no  night  there,  and  they  shall  bring  the  glory  and 
honor  of  the  nations  into  it."  —  Rev.  21  :  25,  26. 

"  I  have  not  said  that  there  is  no  sin  in  heaven.  I  have  not 
thought  that  necessary.  If  sin  was  there,  night  would  be 
there,  and  the  curse,  and  death,  and  all  the  other  evils — the 
train  of  sin.  These  are  not  there.  Therefore  sin  is  not  No, 
4  we  shall  be  like  him  ;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is.'  " 

Oh  !  let  our  heart  and  mind 

Continually  ascend, 
That  haven  of  repose  to  find 

Where  all  our  labors  end. 

Where  all  our  toils  are  o'er, 

Our  suffering  and  our  pain  ; 
Who  meet  on  that  eternal  shore, 

Shall  never  part  again. 

O  happy,  happy  place  ! 

Where  saints  and  angels  meet  ! 
There  we  shall  see  each  other's  face, 

And  all  our  brethren  greet. 

The  church  of  the  first-born 

We  shall  with  them  be  blest, 
And,  crowned  with  endless  joy,  return 

To  our  eternal  rest. 

With  joy  we  shall  behold, 

In  yonder  blest  abode, 
The  patriarchs  and  prophets  old, 

And  all  the  saints  of  God. 


12  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

TTe  shall  our  time  beneath 
Live  out  in  cheerful  hope, 

And  fearless  pass  the  vale  of  death, 
And  reach  the  mountain-top. 

To  gather  home  his  own 
God  will  his  angels  send, 

And  bid  our  bliss,  on  earth  begun, 
In  deathless  triumph  end. 


"  It  is  enough  for   the   disciple    that  he  be  as  his  master, 
and  the  servant  as  his  lord."  —  Matt.  10  :  25. 

"What  bereavement  have  any  of  God's  adopted  children 
ever  suffered,  the  sense  of  which  was  so  keen  as  that  under 
which  the  only  begotten  Son  cried  out :  '  My  God,  my  God, 
why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?'  " 

Must  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone, 

And  all  the  world  go  free  ? 
!N"o  ;  there's  a  cross  for  every  one, 

And  there's  a  cross  for  me. 

How  happy  are  the  saints  above 
TVho  once  went  sorrowing  here  ; 

But  now  they  taste  lumiingled  love, 
And  joy  without  a  tear. 

The  consecrated  cross  Fll  bear, 

Till  death  shall  set  me  free, 
And  then  go  home  my  crown  to  wear — 

For  there's  a  crown  for  me  ! 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  13 

Upon  the  crystal  pavement,  clown 

At  Jesus'  pierced  feet, 
Joyful  I'll  cast  my  golden  crown, 

And  his  dear  name  repeat. 

And  palms  shall  wave,  and  harps  shall  ring 

Beneath  heaven's  arches  high  ; 
The  Lord  that  lives,  the  ransomed  sing, 

That  lives  no  more  to  die  ! 

O  precious  cross  !  O  glorious  crown  ! 

O  resurrection  day ! 
Ye  angels,  from  the  stars  come  down, 

And  bear  my  soul  away  ! 


"We  love  him  because  he  first  loved  us."— 1  John  4  :  19. 
"  "Who  loved  me  and  gave  himself  for  me."  —  Gal.  2  :  20. 

"  It  is  so  broad  that  it  comprehends  a  great  multitude  which 
no  man  can  number — so  long  that  it  reaches  from  the  infinite 
past  into  the  infinite  future — so  deep  that  it  stooped  below  the 
grave  to  hell  itself — and  so  high  that  it  reaches  up  to  that  hea- 
ven where  he  reigns  King  of  kings,  and  God  over  all." 

We  love  thee,  Lord,  because  when  we 

Had  erred  and  gone  astray, 
Thou  didst  recall  our  wandering  souls 

Into  the  homeward  way. 
When  helpless,  hopeless,  we  were  lost 

In  sin  and  sorrow's  night, 
Thou  didst  send  forth  a  guiding  ray 

Of  thy  benignant  light. 


14  HYMXS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Because  when  we  forsook  thy  ways, 

Nor  kept  thy  holy  will, 
Thou  wert  not  an  aveno-inor  Judare, 

But  a  gracious  Father  still ; 
Because  we  have  forgot  thee,  Lord, 

But  thou  hast  not  forgot ; 
Because  we  have  forsaken  thee, 

But  thou  forsakest  not. 

Because,  O  Lord,  thou  lovedst  us 

With  everlasting  love  ; 
Because  thou  gav'st  thy  Son  to  die, 

That  we  might  live  above  ; 
Because,  when  we  were  heirs  of  wrath, 

Thou  gav'st  the  hopes  of  heaven  ; 
We  love,  because  we  much  have  sinned, 

And  much  have  been  forgiven. 


"  Who  is  among  you  that  feareth  the  Lord,  that  obeyeth  the 
voice  of  his  servant,  that  walketh  in  darkness,  and  hath  no 
light  ?  let  him  trust  m  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon 
his  God."  —  Isa.  50  :  10. 

"  God  bids  us  to  draw  near  to  him,  simply  to  do  it,  and  he, 
in  his  good  time,  will  give  an  answer  to  our  prayers.  It  is  an 
exercise  of  faith  when  our  minds  are  clouded,  still  to  trust,  and 
wait,  and  look,  and  look  for  our  answer  in  his  own  good  time." 

Children  of  God,  who,  pacing  slow, 

Your  pilgrim  path  pursue, 
In  strength  and  weakness,  joy  and  woe, 

To  God's  high  calling  true. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  15 

Why  move  ye  thus,  with  lingering  tread, 

A  doubtful,  mourning  band  ? 
Why  faintly  hangs  the  drooping  head  ? 

Why  fails  the  feeble  hand  ? 

Oh !  weak  to  know  a  Saviour's  power, 

To  feel  a  Father's  care  ; 
A  moment's  toil,  a  passing  shower, 

Is  all  the  grief  ye  share. 

The  Lord  of  light,  though  veiled  awhile, 

He  hide  his  noontide  ray, 
Shall  soon  in  lovelier  beauty  smile 

To  gild  the  closing  day. 

And  bursting  through  the  dusky  cloud 

That  dared  his  power  invest, 
Ride  throned  in  light  o'er  every  cloud, 

Triumphant  to  his  rest. 

Then,  Christian,  dry  the  falling  tear, 

The  faithless  doubt  remove  ; 
Redeemed  at  last  from  guilt  and  fear, 

Oh  !  wake  thy  heart  to  love. 

A  Saviour's  blood  hath  bought  ttry  peace ; 

Thy  Saviour  God  adore  ; 
He  bade  the  throb  of  terror  cease, 

The  pains  of  guilt  he  bore. 


16  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless."  —  John  14  :  18. 

11  The  two  great  pillars  of  a  sinner's  hope  are,  what  Christ 
has  done  for  us  in  the  flesh — and  what  he  is  doing  for  us  in  the 
spirit." 

Blest  Comforter  divine, 

Let  rays  of  heavenly  love 
Amid  our  gloom  and  darkness  shine 
And  guide  our  souls  above. 

Turn  us,  with  gentle  voice, 

From  every  sinful  way, 
And  bid  the  mourning  saint  rejoice, 

Though  earthly  joys  decay. 

By  thine  inspiring  breath 

Make  every  cloud  of  care, 
And  e'en  the  gloomy  vale  of  death, 

A  smile  of  glory  wear 


"As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be."  — Deut.  33  :  35. 

"There  are  some  particular  promises  in  the  word  of  God, 
made  in  an  especial  manner,  which  would  never  have  been  ours 
had  we  remained  in  prosperity." 

Afflicted  saint,  to  Christ  draw  near, 
The  Saviour's  gracious  promise  hear  ; 
His  faithful  word  declares  to  thee, 
That,  as  thy  days,  thy  strength  shall  be. 

Let  not  thy  heart  despond  and  say, 
"  How  shall  I  stand  the  trying  day  ?" 
He  has  engaged,  by  firm  decree, 
That,  as  thy  days,  thy  strength  shall  be. 


HYMNS   FOR   THE   SICK-ROOM.  17 

Thy  faith  is  weak,  thy  foes  are  strong, 
And,  if  the  conflict  should  be  long, 
Thy  Lord  will  make  the  tempter  flee  ; 
For,  as  thy  days,  thy  strength  shall  be. 

When  called  to  bear  the  weighty  cross, 
Or  share  affliction,  pain,  or  loss, 
Or  deep  distress,  or  poverty — 
Still,  as  thy  days,  thy  strength  shall  be. 

When  ghastly  death  appears  in  view, 
Christ's  presence  shall  thy  fears  subdue  : 
He  comes  to  set  thy  spirit  free, 
And,  as  thy  days,  thy  strength  shall  be. 


"  And  Israel  stretched  out  his  right  hand,  and  laid  it  upon  Eph- 
raim's  head,  who  was  the  younger,  and  his  left  hand  upon 
Manasseh's  head,  guiding  his  hands  wittingly."— Gen.  48  :  14. 

11  God  often  blesses  his  children  by  crossing  his  hands.  We 
can  not  see  the  reasons  of  our  afflictions,  but  must  trust  him 
that  he  has  guided  his  hands  wittingly." 

My  times  are  in  thy  hands, 

My  God,  I  wish  them  there  ; 
My  life,  my  friends,  my  soul  I  leave, 

Entirely  to  thy  care. 

My  times  are  in  thy  hand, 

Whatever  they  may  be  ; 
Pleasing  or  painful,  dark  or  bright, 

As  best  may  seem  to  thee. 


18  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

My  times  are  in  thy  hand, 
"Why  should  I  doubt  or  fear  ? 

A  Father's  hand  will  never  cause 
His  child  a  needless  tear. 

My  times  are  in  thy  hand, 

Jesus,  the  crucified ; 
The  hand  my  cruel  sins  had  pierced, 

Is  now  my  guard  and  guide. 

My  times  are  in  thy  hand, 
I'll  always  trust  in  thee  ; 

Till  I  have  left  this  weary  land, 
And  all  thy  glory  see. 


"For  now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to 
face ;  now  I  know  in  part,  but  then  shall  I  know  even  as  I 
am  known."  —  1  Cor.  13  :  12. 

11  In  quietness  and  rest  ye  shall  be  saved.  If  men  do  any 
thing  contrary  to  your  heart,  ye  "may  ask  both  '  Who  did  it,' 
and  'What  is  done,'  and  'Why  ?'  When  God  hath  done  any 
such  thing,  we  are  to  inquire,  '  Who  hath  done  it  ?'  and  to 
know  that  this  cometh  from  the  Lord." 

Thy  way,  O  God !  is  in  the  sea, 

Thy  paths  I  can  not  trace ; 
ISTor  comprehend  the  mystery 

Of  thy  unbounded  grace. 

Here  the  dark  veils  of  flesh  and  sense 

My  captive  soul  surround ; 
Mysterious  deeps  of  providence 

My  wondering  thoughts  confound. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  19 

When  I  behold  thy  awful  hand 

My  earthly  hopes  destroy, 
In  deep  astonishment  I  stand, 

And  ask  the  reason  why  ? 

As  through  a  glass,  I  dimly  see 

The  wonders  of  thy  love : 
How  little  do  I  know  of  thee, 

Or  of  the  joys  above  ! 

'Tis  but  in  part,  I  know  thy  will ; 

I  bless  thee  for  the  sight : 
When  will  thy  love  the  rest  reveal 

In  glory's  clearer  light  ? 

With  rapture  shall  I  then  survey 

Thy  providence  and  grace  ; 
And  spend  an  everlasting  day 

In  wonder,  love,  and  praise. 


"Looking  unto  Jesus,  the  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith." 
— Heb.  12  :  2. 

"As  the  Hebrew  when  he  prayed  looked  towards  the  temple 
where  was  the  Mercy-seat  and  the  peculiar  presence  of  God,  so 
ought  we  in  all  our  prayers  to  God,  to  look  to  Christ  in  whom 
dwelleth  all  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead  bodily." 

Jesus  !  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  billows  near  me  roll — 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high. 


20  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour !  hide, 
Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past ; 

Safe  into  the  haven  guide ; 
Oh  !  receive  my  soul  at  last. 

Other  refuge  have  I  none — 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  thee  ! 

Leave,  ah !  leave  me  not  alone  ! 
Still  support  and  comfort  me ! 

All  my  trust  on  thee  is  staid  ; 

All  my  help  from  thee  I  bring  ; 
Cover  my  defenseless  head 

With  the  shadow  of  thy  wing. 

Thou,  O  Christ !  art  all  I  want ; 

More  than  All  in  thee  I  find : 
Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint, 

Heal  the  sick,  and  lead  the  blind. 

Just  and  holy  is  thy  name, 
I  am  all  unrighteousness ! 

Vile,  and  full  of  sin  I  am — 

Thou  art  full  of  truth  and  grace. 

Plenteous  grace  with  thee  is  found- 
Grace  to  pardon  all  my  sin ; 

Let  the  healing  streams  abound ; 
Let  me  feel  them  flow  within. 

Thou  of  life  the  fountain  art, 
Freely  let  me  take  of  thee  ! 

Spring  thou  up  within  my  heart — 
Rise  to  all  eternity ! 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  21 


"When  thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with 
thee."  -  Isa.  43  :  2. 

"  Abide  with  us ;  for  it  is  towards  evening,  and  the  day  is 
far  spent."— Luke  24  :  29. 

"  The  Christian,  with  whom  every  thing  goes  smoothly,  and  on 
whom  every  thing  looks  smilingly,  knows  comparatively  but  lit- 
tle of  what  God  is,  and  what  the  sympathy  of  the  Saviour, 
with  those  whose  nature  he  assumed,  and  whose  iniquity  he 
bore." 

"Abide  with  me,"  thou  gracious  Guide, 
My  lamp  by  night,  my  8un  by  day  ; 
Thy  gracious  presence  at  my  side 
Bids  every  anxious  fear  away. 

"Abide  with  me  !"  when  lips  beloved 

Shall  lisp  on  earth  their  sad  farewell ; 
The  best  of  friends  is  not  removed, 
If  thou  within  my  bosom  dwell ! 

"Abide  with  me  !"  when  sleepless  laid 

On  sick-bed — weary — lone — distressed  ; 
Blessed  Saviour  !  let'my  throbbing  head 
Lie  pillowed  on  thy  peaceful  breast. 

"Abide  with  me !"  when  death  is  near, 
To  calm  the  waves  of  ebbing  life  ; 
Be  nigh  to  wipe  earth's  closing  tear, 
And  bear  me  from  its  ended  strife. 


22  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"  I  have  heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now 
mine  eye  seeth  thee."— Job  42  :  5. 

"  When  pain  searcheth  into  the  body  or  the  spirit,  we  feel 
as  if  we  had  awoke  up  to  know  that  we  have  learned  nothing 
really  until  then.  There  is  laid  before  us  a  mighty  hand,  from 
whose  shadow  we  can  not  flee.  Such  are  the  effects  wrought 
by  sorrows,  sickness,  bodily  pains,  anxieties,  and  the  like." 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee ! 
Even  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me ; 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee ! 

Though  like  a  wanderer, 

The  sun  gone  down, 
Darkness  comes  over  me, 

My  rest  a  stone, 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I  would  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee ! 

There  let  my  way  appear 

Steps  unto  heaven ; 
All  that  thou  sendest  me 

In  mercy  given — 
Angels  to  beckon  me 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee ! 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Then  with  my  waking  thoughts, 
Bright  with  thy  praise, 

Out  of  my  stony  griefs 

Bethels  I  will  raise  ; 

So  by  my  woes  to  be 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee ! 

Or  if  on  joyful  wing, 

Cleaving  the  sky, 

Sun,  moon,  and  stars  forgot, 
Upward  I  fly, 

Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 

Nearel*,  my  God,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee  ! 


"Now  no  chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to  be  joyous, 
but  grievous  ;  nevertheless,  afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peace- 
able fruit  of  righteousness  unto  them  which  are  exercised 
thereby."  —  Heb.  12  :  11. 

11  ATe  are  living  stones  built  upon  the  great  foundation  laid 
in  Zion  for  the  heavenly  temple.  God  uses  affliction  as  his 
hammer  and  chisel  in  polishing  us  here ;  in  patient  love  the 
Father  gives  stroke  upon  stroke." 

O  thou,  whose  mercy  guides  my  way, 

Though  now  it  seem  severe, 
Forbid  my  unbelief  to  say 

There  is  no  mercy  here. 

Oh !  grant  me  to  desire  the  pain 
That  comes  in  kindness  down, 

More  than  the  world's  alluring  gain 
Succeeded  by  a  frown. 


24  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Then,  though  thou  bow  my  spirit  low, 

Love  only  shall  I  see ; 
The  very  hand  that  strikes  the  blow 

Was  wounded  once  for  me. 


"As  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing."— 2  Cor.  6  :  10. 

"It is  our  nature  to  rejoice  when  all  within  and  without  is 
undisturbed ;  the  miracle  is,  'To  rejoice  in  tribulation;'  and 
this  miracle  is  continually  wrought  as  the  believer  is  passing 
through  the  wilderness." 

Your  harps,  ye  trembling  saints, 

Down  from  the  willows  take, 
Loud,  to  the  love  of  praise  divine, 

Bid  every  string  awake. 

Though  in  a  foreign  land, 

We  are  not  far  from  home  ; 
And  nearer  to  our  house  above 

We  every  moment  come. 

His  grace  will  to  the  end 

Stronger  and  brighter  shine ; 
Nor  present  things,  nor  things  to  come, 

Shall  quench  the  spark  divine. 

If  through  unruffled  seas 

Toward  heaven  we  calmly  sail, 

With  grateful  hearts,  O  God  !  to  thee, 
We'll  own  the  fostering  gale. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  25 

But  should  the  surges  rise, 

And  rest  delay  to  come, 
Blest  be  the  sorrow,  kind  the  storm, 

Which  drives  us  nearer  home. 

Soon  shall  our  doubts  and  fears 

All  yield  to  thy  control ; 
Thy  tender  mercies  shall  illume 

The  midnight  of  the  soul. 

Teach  us,  in  every  state, 

To  make  thy  will  our  own  ; 
And  when  the  joys  of  sense  depart, 

To  live  by  faith  alone. 

When  we  in  darkness  walk, 

Nor  feel  the  heavenly  flame ; 
Then  is  the  time  to  trust  our  God, 

And  rest  upon  his  name. 

Wait  till  the  shadows  flee  ; 

Wait  thy  appointed  hour ; 
Wait  till  the  bridegroom  of  thy  soul, 

Reveals  his  love  with  power. 

The  time  of  love  will  come, 

Then  we  shall  clearly  see 
Not  only  that  he  shed  his  blood, 

But  each  shall  say  :  "  For  me." 
2 


26  HYMNS   FOE  THE   SICK-KOOM. 


"  Now  is  our  salvation  nearer  than  when  we  believed."  — 
Rom.  13  :  11. 

"  Only  let  us  not  weary ;  the  miles  to  that  land  are  fewer 
and  shorter  than  when  we  first  believed.  Strangers  are  not 
wise  to  quarrel  with  their  host  and  complain  of  their  lodging. 
It  is  a  foul  way,  but  a  fair  home." 

My  days  are  gliding  swiftly  by, 

And  I,  a  pilgrim  stranger, 
Would  not  detain  them  as  they  fly — 
Those  hours  of  toil  and  danger. 

For  oh !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand, 

Our  friends  are  passing  over ; 
And  just  before,  the  shining  shore 
We  may  almost  discover. 

We'll  gird  our  loins,  my  brethren  dear, 

Our  distant  home  discerning ; 
Our  absent  Lord  has  left  us  word, 

Let  every  lamp  be  burning. 

For  oh  !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand,  etc. 

Should  coming  days  be  cold  and  dark^ 
We  need  not  cease  our  singing  ; 

That  perfect  rest  naught  can  molest, 
Where  golden  harps  are  ringing. 

For  oh !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand,  etc. 

Let  sorrow's  rudest  tempests  blow, 

Each  chord  on  earth  to  sever  ; 
Our  King  says  come,  and  there's  our  home, 

Forever,  oh!  forever. 

For  oh !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand,  etc. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  27 


"I  desire  that  ye  faint  not  at  my  tribulations."— Eph.  3  :  13. 

"  The  sick-room,  the  sick-bed  has  its  special,  its  appropriate 
duties — duties  to  the  full  as  difficult,  as  honorable,  as  remuner- 
ative, as  any  which  devolve  on  the  Christian  whilst  yet  in  his 
unbroken  strength.  They  are  not  precisely  the  same  duties  as 
belonged  to  the  man  in  health,  but  they  differ  only  by  such 
differences  as  a  change  in  outward  circumstances  and  position 
will  always  introduce." 

Wish  not,  dear  friends,  my  pain  away — 
Wish  me  a  wise  and  thankful  heart, 

With  God  in  all  my  griefs  to  stay, 
Nor  from  his  loved  correction  start. 

In  life's  long  sickness  evermore 

Our  thoughts  are  tossing  to  and  fro  ; 

We  change  our  posture  o'er  and  o'er, 
But  can  not  rest,  nor  cheat  our  wo. 

Were  it  not  better  to  he  still, 

Let  him  strike  home,  and  bless  the  rod, 

Never  so  safe  as  when  our  will 

Yields  undiscerned  by  all  but  God  ? 


"  Men  ought  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint."— Luke  18  : 1. 

PRAYER     FOR     PATIENCE     IN     SICKNESS. 

O  Lord  !  shall  a  living  man  complain — a  man  for  the 
punishment  of  his  sins  ?  Shall  I,  who  am  less  than  the 
least  of  all  thy  mercies,  which  have  been  new  unto  me 
every  morning,  and  every  moment  of  my  life,  complain 


28  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

when,  for  a  season,  some  of  these  are  withdrawn — 
when,  instead  of  the  health  of  body  which  I  have  so 
long  enjoyed,  but  so  little  improved,  alas  !  to  thy  glory, 
thou  visitest  me  with  pining  sickness — when,  instead 
of  the  relish  with  which  I  have  hitherto  partaken  of  the 
gifts  of  thy  providence,  all  are  now  become  as  physi- 
cians of  no  value — when  thou  holdest  mine  eyes  wak- 
ing, and  I  am  so  troubled  that  I  can  not  speak,  and 
even  the  kindness  and  sympathy  of  friends  can  yield  no 
relief  to  my  sorrow — when  thus  thou  seemest  to  hide 
thy  face  from  me,  to  hedge  up  my  way  with  thorns, 
and  for  peace  I  have  great  bitterness,  shall  I  grow 
weary  of  thy  correction,  faint  when  rebuked  of  thee, 
and  say  :  "  My  strength  and  hope  are  perished  from  the 
Lord  ?"     Holy  Father,  forbid  it. 

Rather  let  me  consider  the  years  of  the  right  hand 
of  the  Most  High,  when  thou  didst  make  the  outgoings 
of  the  morning  and  evening  to  rejoice  over  me,  loading 
me  with  thy  benefits.  Let  me  remember,  that  thy 
faithfulness  and  love  are  no  less  displayed  in  creating 
the  darkness  than  in  forming  the  light.  Oh  !  may  I 
humble  myself  under  thy  mighty  hand,  and  adore  thy 
holy  name,  that  in  the  midst  of  suffering  thou  permit- 
test  me  to  sing  of  mercy  as  well  as  of  judgment,  mak- 
ing the  valley  of  Achor  a  door  of  hope  ;  when  I  con- 
sider what  is  the  portion  I  have  deserved  at  thy  hand, 
may  I  not  only  possess  my  soul  in  patience,  but  esteem 
it  a  blessed  thing  to  be  chastened  of  the  Lord,  that  I 
may  not  be  condemned  with  the  world.  From  the  pain 
of  my  body  may  I  be  led  to  feel  more  of  the  plague  of 
my  heart,  knowing  that  sin  is  the  cause  of  all  suffering ; 
that,  on  account  of  which  the  whole  creation  groaneth 


HYMNS  FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM.  29 

and  travaileth  in  pain  together  until  now;  that  evil 
thing  which  my  soul  hateth,  and  to  atone  for  which, 
cost  thy  beloved  Son  such  bitter  agonies,  and  tears,  and 
groans.  In  this  may  I  groan,  being  burdened.  From 
this,  my  chief  malady,  may  I  long  to  be  delivered  ;  and 
though  my  wound  is  grievous,  may  I  rejoice  that  it  is 
not  incurable  ;  for  there  is  balm  in  Gilead,  and  a  skillful 
physician  there.  Christ  hath  redeemed  me  from  the 
curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a  curse  for  me.  Thanks, 
eternal  thanks,  be  unto  thee,  O  holy  Father,  for  thine 
unspeakable  gift — for  this  precious  and  tried  corner- 
stone, which  thou  hast  laid  in  Zion,  as  a  sure  foundation 
of  the  sinner's  hope  towards  thee.  For  as  sin  hath 
reigned  unto  death,  even  so  hath  grace  reigned  through 
righteousness  unto  eternal  life,  by  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
And  though  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  shall  no  flesh  be 
justified,  and  every  mouth  must  be  stopped  before 
thee,  the  holy  and  just  God,  yet  thy  holiness  and  jus- 
tice, no  less  than  thy  mercy,  are  vindicated  in  justify- 
ing all  who  believe  in  Jesus. 

Look,  then,  upon  me,  not  as  I  am  in  myself,  altogether 
polluted  and  vile — for,  from  the  crown  of  my  head  to 
the  sole  of  my  foot,  there  is  no  soundness  in  me — but 
see,  God,  my  shield — look  upon  me  in  the  face  of  thine 
anointed,  through  whom  thou  seest  no  iniquity  in  Jacob, 
and  no  perversity  in  Israel.  While  I  put  my  hand  on  my 
mouth,  and  my  mouth  in  the  dust,  because  of  all  the 
evils  I  have  committed,  may  I  still  hope,  and  quietly 
wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord !  For  with  thee, 
O  Lord,  there  is  mercy  that  thou  mayest  be  found,  and 
plenteous  redemption  that  thou  mayest  be  sought.  Do 
thou  redeem  me  from  all  mine  iniquities.     If  it  be  thy 


30  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

holy  will,  in  thy  good  time  do  thou  heal  all  my  dis- 
eases ;  but  especially  give  me  patience  to  bear  with 
meekness  all  thou  seest  meet  to  lay  upon  me.  Sanctify 
this  sickness  unto  me,  that  whether  it  be  of  longer  or 
of  shorter  duration,  whether  the  issue  be  life  or  death, 
the  fruit  may  be  unto  holiness,  the  end  everlasting  life. 
Hear,  O  Lord,  in  heaven  thy  dwelling-place,  my  humble 
prayer,  and  when  thou  nearest,  forgive  ;  for  my  blessed 
Redeemer's  sake.     Amen. 

Why  should  a  living  man  complain 

Of  deep  distress  within, 
Since  every  sigh  and  every  pain 

Is  but  the  fruit  of  sin  ? 

Lord,  to  thy  dealings  I'll  submit, 

Nor  would  I  dare  rebel ; 
Yet  sure  I  may,  here  at  thy  feet, 

My  painful  feelings  tell. 

Thou  seest  what  floods  of  sorrow  rise, 

And  beat  upon  my  soul ; 
Deep  calls  to  deep  ;  oh  !  hear  my  cry, 

While  stormy  billows  roll. 

From  fear  to  hope,  and  hope  to  fear, 

My  shipwrecked  soul  is  tost ; 
Till  I  am  tempted  in  despair 

To  give  up  all  for  lost. 

Yet  through  the  stormy  clouds  I  look 

Once  more  to  thee,  my  God  ; 
Oh  !  fix  my  feet  on  Christ,  the  rock, 

Who  bought  me  with  his  blood. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  31 

One  look  of  mercy  from  thy  face, 

"Will  set  my  heart  at  ease ; 
One  all-commanding  word  of  grace, 

"Will  make  the  tempest  cease. 


*'  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised 
for  our  iniquities  :  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon 
him;  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed."  — Isa.  53:  5. 

"  Though  heart  and  flesh  may  fail,  though  thou  hast  not 
gone  this  way  heretofore,  thy  Saviour  has  crossed  before,  and 
made  the  passage  safe  for  every  one  of  his  true  followers.  His 
death  is  thy  deliverance  from  the  bitter  pains  of  eternal  death. 
His  rising  to  life  again,  is  the  restoration  of  eternal  life  unto 
thee.     Therefore,  fear  not,  only  believe." 

There  is  no  pain  that  I  can  bear, 
But  thou,  my  God,  hast  borne  it ; 

No  robe  of  scorn,  that  I  can  wear, 
But  thou,  my  Lord,  hast  worn  it. 

There's  no  temptation  I  endure, 
But  thou,  my  King,  endured  it ; 

There's  not  a  wound  that  asks  a  cure, 
But  my  Redeemer  cured  it. 

For  me,  thy  sacred  "  temples  bled  ;" 
For  me,  "  thou  wert  upbraided  ;" 

"  And  as  a  lamb  to  slaughter  led," 
Unpitied  and  unaided. 

And  can  I  doubt  thy  tender  love  ? 

Thy  rich  compassion — doubt  it  ? 
My  spirit  hath  no  hope  above, 

No  stav  on  earth  without  it. 


32  HY3IXS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"  For  a  small  moment  have  I  forsaken  thee ;  but  with  great 
mercies  will  I  gather  thee.  In  a  little  wrath  I  hid  my  face 
from  thee  for  a  moment ;  but  with  everlasting  kindness  will 
I  have  mercy  on  thee,  saith  the  Lord  thy  Redeemer."  —  Isa. 
54  :  7,  8. 

"  They  who  look  shall  be  saved.  The  sun  in  the  firmament 
is  often  faintly  seen  through  a  cloud,  but  the  spectator  may  be 
no  less  looking  than  when  he  is  seen  in  full  and  undiminished 
effulgence.  It  is  not  to  him  who  sees  Christ  clearly  that  the 
promises  are  given,  but  to  him  who  looks  to  Christ." 

Jesus,  in  sickness  and  in  pain, 

Be  near  to  succor  me  ; 
My  sinking  spirit  still  sustain ; 

To  thee  I  turn,  to  thee. 

"When  cares  and  sorrows  thicken  round, 

And  nothing  bright  I  see, 
In  thee  alone  can  help  be  found ; 

To  thee  I  turn,  to  thee. 

Should  strong  temptations  fierce  assail, 

As  if  to  ruin  me, 
Then  in  thy  strength  will  I  prevail, 

While  still  I  turn  to  thee. 

When  past  transgressions  fearful  rise 

Before  my  memory, 
I'll  plead  thy  perfect  sacrifice, 

And  turn  to  thee,  to  thee. 

Through  all  my  pilgrimage  below, 

What  e'er  my  lot  may  be, 
In  joy  or  sadness,  weal  or  wo, 

Jesus,  I'll  turn  to  thee. 


HYMN'S  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  33 

"  For  there  is  none  other  name  under  heaven  given  among 
men  whereby  we  must  be  saved."  — Acts  4  :  12. 

11  One  new  discovery  of  the  glory  of  Christ  Jesus  will  dc 
more  towards  scattering  clouds  of  darkness  in  one  minute, 
than  examining  old  experiences  by  the  best  marks  through  a 
whole  year." 

How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds 

In  a  believer's  ear  ! 
It  soothes  his  sorrows,  heals  his  wounds, 

And  drives  away  his  fear. 

It  makes  the  wounded  spirit  whole 

And  calms  the  troubled  breast ; 
'Tis  manna  to  the  hungry  soul, 

And  to  the  weary,  rest. 

By  thee,  my  prayers  acceptance  gain, 

Although  with  sin  defiled  ; 
Satan  accuses  me  in  in  vain, 

And  I  am  owned  a  child. 

Jesus  !  my  shepherd,  guardian,  friend, 

My  prophet,  priest,  and  king  ; 
My  lord,  my  life,  my  way,  my  end, 

Accept  the  praise  I  bring. 

Weak  is  the  eifort  of  my  heart, 

And  cold  my  warmest  thought  ; 
But  when  I  see  thee  as  thou  art, 

I'll  praise  thee  as  I  ought. 

Till  then  I  would  thy  love  proclaim, 

With  every  fleeting  breath  ; 
And  may  the  music  of  thy  name, 

Refresh  my  soul  in  death.  2* 


34  HYMXS   FOR   THE  SICK-ROOM. 


•'  The  whole  family  in  heaven  and  earth."  —  Eph.  3  :  15. 

"  The  difference  betwixt  them  and  us  is  not  that  we  are 
really  two,  but  one  body  of  Christ  in  divers  places.  True,  we 
are  below-stairs,  and  they  are  above." 

Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above, 
TTho  have  obtained  the  prize, 

And  on  the  eagle-wings  of  love 
To  joy  celestial  rise. 

Let  saints  below  in  concert  sing 
TTith  those  to  glory  gone  ; 

For  all  the  servants  of  our  King- 
In  heaven  and  earth  are  one. 

One  family,  we  dwell  in  him  ; 

One  church  above,  beneath  ; 
Though  now  divided  by  the  stream — 

The  narrow  stream — of  death. 

One  army  of  the  living  God, 

To  his  command  we  bow  ; 
Part  of  the  host  have  crossed  the  flood, 

And  part  are  crossing  now. 

E'en  now  to  their  eternal  home 

Some  happy  spirits  fly  ; 
And  we  are  to  the  margin  come, 

And  soon  expect  to  die. 

O  Saviour  !    be  our  constant  guide  ; 

Then,  when  the  word  is  given, 
Bid  Jordan's  narrow  stream  divide, 

And  land  us  safe  in  heaven. 


HYHXS  FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM.  35 


"  Let  us  labor,  therefore,  to  enter  into  that  rest."  —  Heb 
4  :  11. 

"  The  trials  of  life  will  soon  be  over.     The  fashion  of  this 

world  passeth  away.      Let  the  thoughts  of   eternity  mingle 

with  the  trials  of  time,  and  its  weightiest  trials  will  be  felt  to 

be  as  4  light  affliction  which  is  but  for  a  moment'  " 

Though  hard  the  winds  are  blowing, 

And  loud  the  billows  roar, 
Full  swiftly  we  are  going 

To  our  dear  native  shore. 

The  billows  breaking  o'er  us, 
The  storms  that  round  us  swell, 

Are  aiding  to  restore  us 
To  all  we  loved  so  well. 

So  sorrow  often  presses 

Life's  mariner  along ; 
Afflictions  and  distresses 

Are  gales  and  billows  strong. 

The  sharper  and  severer 

The  storms  of  life  we  meet, 
The  sooner  and.  the  nearer 

Is  heaven's  eternal  seat. 

Come,  then,  afflictions  dreary  ! 

Sharp  sickness,  pierce  my  breast ! 
You  only  bear  the  weary 

More  quickly  home  to  rest ! 


86  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"  Jesus    Christ,  the   same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and   for- 
ever." —  Hebrews  13  :  8. 

"Heaven  and  earth  may  pass  away,  but  his  word  shall  not 
pass  away.  All  that  he  saith  cometh  surely  to  pass.  His 
arms  are  ever  open  to  receive  us.  On  his  bosom  we  may 
always  pillow  our  weary  head.  In  his  blood  we  may  always 
wash  away  our  sins  and  make  our  robes  white.  On  his  word 
we  may  always  with  confidence  depend.  Christ  alone,  then, 
should  be  the  object  of  our  confidence.'* 

"When  languor  and  disease  invade 

This  trembling  house  of  clay, 
'Tis  sweet  to  look  beyond  the  cage, 

And  long  to  soar  away. 

Sweet  to  look  inward,  and  attend 

The  whispers  of  his  love  ; 
Sweet  to  look  upward  to  the  throne, 

Where  Jesus  pleads  above. 

Sweet  to  look  back,  and  see  my  name 
In  life's  fair  book  marked  down  ; 

Sweet  to  look  forward,  and  behold 
Eternal  joys  my  own. 

Sweet  to  reflect  how  grace  divine 

My  sins  on  Jesus  laid  ; 
Sweet  to  remember  that  his  death 

My  debt  of  suffering  paid. 

Sweet  on  his  faithfulness  to  rest, 

Whose  love  can  never  end  ; 
Sweet  on  the  promise  of  his  grace 

For  all  things  to  depend ; 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  37 

Sweet,  in  the  confidence  of  faith, 

To  trust  his  firm  decrees ; 
Sweet  to  lie  passive  in  his  hands, 

And  know  no  will  but  his. 

Sweet  in  his  righteousness  to  stand 

Who  saves  from  second  death  ; 
Sweet  to  experience,  day  by  day, 

The  Spirit's  quickening  breath. 

Sweet  to  rejoice  in  lively  hope 
That  when  my  change  shall  come, 

Angels  will  hover  round  my  bed, 
And  waft  my  spirit  home. 

There  shall  my  disembodied  soul 

View  Jesus  and  adore  ; 
Be  with  his  likeness  satisfied, 

And  grieve  and  sin  no  more. 

Shall  see  him  wear  that  very  flesh 

On  which  my  guilt  was  lain ; 
His  love  intense,  his  merit  fresh, 

As  though  but  newly  slain. 

Soon,  too,  my  slumbering  dust  shall  hear 
The  trumpet's  quickening  sound  ; 

And  by  my  Saviour's  power  rebuilt, 
At  his  right  hand  be  found. 

If  such  the  views  which  grace  unfolds, 

Weak  as  it  is  below, 
What  raptures  must  the  Church  above 

In  Jesus'  presence  know  ! 


38  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

If  such  the  sweetness  of  the  streams, 
What  must  the  fountain  be, 

Where  saints  and  angels  draw  their  bliss 
Direct,  O  Lord  !  from  thee  ? 

Oh  !  may  the  unction  of  these  truths, 

Forever  with  me  stay  ; 
Till  from  her  sinful  cage  dismissed, 

My  spirit  flies  away. 


"  Hear  ye  the  rod,  and  who  hath  appointed  it."—  Micah  6  :  9. 

"  The  heaviest  and  sharpest  of  our  sorrows  is  only  just 
enough  to  heal  us.  He  doth  not  loillingly  afflict.  If  any 
thing  short  of  our  present  trial  would  have  wrought  his  pur- 
pose of  love  to  us,  he  would  have  sent  the  lighter  and  kept 
back  the  heavier." 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt  ! 

Oh  !  may  thy  will  be  mine  ; 
Into  thy  hand  of  love 

I  would  my  all  resign. 
Through  sorrow  or  through  joy 

Conduct  me  as  thine  own  ; 
And  help  me  still  to  say, 

My  Lord,  thy  will  be  done  ! 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt ! 

All  shall  be  well  for  me  ; 
Each  changing  future  scene 

I  gladly  trust  with  thee. 
Straight  to  my  home  above 

I  travel  calmly  on, 
And  sing,  in  life  or  death, 

My  Lord,  thy  will  be  done  ! 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  39 


"  Then  said  Jesus  to  his  disciples,  If  any  man  will  come 
after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  and 
follow  me."  — Matt.  16  :  24. 

"  Our  blessed  Lord,  when  he  calls  us  to  take  up  our  cross, 
sends  us  not  on  a  way  which  he  does  not  know.  He  himself 
has  gone  before  us,  bearing  his  own  cross  ;  and  thus  he  says  : 
1  Follow  me.'  It  is  to  the  fellowsJi  ip  of  his  sufferings  that  we 
are  called,  greater  than  any  that  we  can  ever  know,  for  he  was 
God  as  well  as  man." 

Thou  Lamb  of  God,  thou  Prince  of  Peace, 
For  thee  my  thirsty  soul  doth  pine  ; 

My  longing  heart  implores  thy  grace — 
Oh  !  make  me  in  thy  likeness  shine. 

When  pain  o'er  my  weak  flesh  prevails, 
With  heavenly  patience  arm  my  breast ; 

When  grief  my  wounded  soul  assails, 
In  lowly  meekness  may  I  rest. 

Close  by  thy  side  still  may  I  keep, 
Howe'er  life's  various  currents  flow  ; 

With  steadfast  eye  mark  every  step, 
And  follow  thee  where'er  thou  go. 

Thou,  Lord,  the  dreadful  fight  hast  won  ; 

Alone  thou  hast  the  wine-press  trod  ; 
In  me  thy  strengthening  grace  be  shown  ; 

Oh  !  may  I  conquer  through  thy  blood. 

So  when  on  Sion  thou  shalt  stand, 

And  all  heaven's  hosts  adore  their  king  ; 

Shall  I  be  found  at  thy  right  hand, 
And  free  from  pain  thy  glories  sing  ! 


40  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"He  shall  sit  as  a  refiner  and  purifier  of  silver."— Mai.  3 : 6. 

"  Let  the  Lord  absolutely  have  the  ordering  of  your  evils 
and  troubles,  and  put  them  off  you  by  recommending  your 
cross  and  your  furnace  to  him  who  hath  skill  to  melt  his  own 
metal,  and  knows  well  what  to  do  with  his  furnace." 

Why  should.  I  murmur  or  repine, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  who  bled  for  me  ? 

What  are  my  griefs  compared  with  thine — 
Thy  tears,  thy  groans,  thine  agony  ! 

If  thou  the  furnace  dost  employ, 

Thou  sittest  as  refiner  near, 
To  purge  away  the  base  alloy, 

Till  thine  own  image  bright  appear. 

Though  oft  thy  way  is  in  the  sea, 
Thy  footsteps  in  the  winged  storm  ; 

Though  crested  billows  threaten  me — 
LoA^e  slumbers  in  their  frowning  form  ! 

Submissive  would  I  kiss  the  rod  ; 

Needful  each  stroke  I  humbly  own  ; 
Or  let  me  trust  thee,  O  my  God  ! 

If  now  the  "  need  be"  is  unknown. 

Wave  upon  wave  which  rolled  before 
Tempestuous  o'er  this  ruffled  breast, 

There  lulled  to  sleep,  shall  break  no  more 
The  rapture  of  eternal  rest. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  41 


"  Father,  I  will  that  they  also,  whom  thou  hast  given  me, 
he  with  me  where  I  am,  that  they  may  behold  my  glory."  — 
John  17  :  24. 

"  So  Christ  ascended  to  the  Father  as  our  fore-runner.  There 
the  door  of  salvation  stands  open  to  all  believers ;  and,  by 
virtue  of  Christ's  ascension,  they  also  shall  ascend  after  him, 
1  far  above  all  heavens.'  " 

From  the  cross  uplifted  high, 
Where  the  Saviour  deigns  to  die, 
What  melodious  sounds  we  hear, 
Bursting  on  the  rafcished  ear  ! 
"  Love's  redeeming  work  is  done  ; 
Come  and  welcome,  sinner,  come. 

"  Sprinkle  now  with  blood  the  throne, 
Why  beneath  thy  burdens  groan  ? 
On  my  pierced  body  laid, 
Justice  owns  the  ransom  paid  ; 
Bow  the  knee,  embrace  the  Son  ; 
Come  and  welcome,  sinner,  come. 

"  Spread  for  thee,  the  festal  board 
See  with  richest  dainties  stored  ; 
To  thy  Father's  bosom  pressed, 
Yet  again  a  child  confessed, 
Xever  from  his  house  to  roam, 
Come  and  welcome,  sinner,  come. 

"  Soon  the  days  of  life  shall  end  ; 
Lo  !  I  come,  your  Saviour,  friend, 
Safe  your  spirits  to  convey 
To  the  realms  of  endless  day, 
Up  to  my  eternal  home  ; 
Come  and  welcome,  sinner,  come." 


42  HY3JEKS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?    and  there  is  none 
upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee."  — Ps.  73  :  24. 

"  By  faith  I  see  the  promised  land,  and  every  day  brings  me 
nearer  to  the  possession  of  my  heavenly  inheritance.  Then 
shall  I  see  God  and  live  ;  and  face  to  face  behold  my  triumphant 
Redeemer.  I  have  nothing  here  to  linger  for  ;  my  hopes,  my 
rest,  my  treasure,  and  my  joys  are  all  above." 

I  sojourn  in  a  vale  of  tears, 

Alas  !  how  can  I  sing  ? 
My  harp  doth  on  the  willows  hang, 

Untuned  in  every  string. 

Oh  !  come,  my  dear  almighty  Lord, 

My  sweetest,  surest  Friend  : 
Come,  for  I  loathe  these  Kedar  tents — 

Thy  fiery  chariots  send. 

What  have  I  here  ? — my  thoughts  and  joys, 

So  long  disposed  to  roam, 
Are  fixed — and  I  will  follow  them 

To  my  eternal  home. 

What  have  I  in  this  barren  land  ? 

My  Jesus  is  not  here  ; 
Mine  eyes  will  ne'er  be  blest,  until 

My  Jesus  doth  appear. 

My  Jesus  is  gone  up  to  heaven, 

To  get  a  place  for  me  ; 
For  'tis  his  will  that  where  he  is, 

His  followers  should  be. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  43 

Canaan  I  view  from  Pisgah's  top  ; 

Of  Eshcol's  grapes  I  taste  ; 
My  Lord,  who  sends  unto  me  here, 

Will  send  for  me  at  last. 

I  have  a  God  that  changeth  not, 

Why  should  I  be  perplexed  ? 
My  God,  who  owns  me  in  this  world, 

Will  own  me  in  the  next. 

Go  fearless,  then,  my  soul,  with  God, 

Into  another  room  : 
Thou  who  hast  walked  with  him  here, 

Go,  see  thy  God,  at  home. 


"  Our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh 
for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

11  0  ye  children  of  sorrow  !  dream  of  any  thing  rather  than 
of  what  ye  endure,  now  excusing  you  from  future  punishment, 
or  giving  you  a  sort  of  title  to  rest  beyond  the  grave.  But 
affliction  worketh  for  us  glory,  in  the  sense  of  preparing  or  fit- 
ting us  for  glory.     God  thereby  disciplines  his  people." 

'Tis  my  happiness  below, 

Not  to  live  without  the  cross, 
But  the  Saviour's  power  to  know, 

Sanctifying  every  loss. 
Trials  must  and  will  befall ; 

But  with  humble  fiith  to  see 
Love  inscribed  upon  them  all — 

This  is  happiness  to  me. 


44  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

God  in  Israel  sows  the  seeds 

Of  affliction,  pain,  and  toil ; 
These  spring  up  and  choke  the  weeds 

Which  would  else  o'erspread  the  soil. 
Trials  make  the  promise  sweet ; 

Trials  give  new  life  to  prayer  ; 
Trials  bring  me  to  his  feet, 

Lay  me  low,  and  keep  me  there. 

Did  I  meet  no  trials  here, 

No  chastisement  by  the  way, 
Might  I  not  with  reason  fear 

I  should  prove  a  castaway  ? 
Worldlings  may  escape  the  rod, 

Simk  in  earthly  vain  delight, 
But  the  true-born  child  of  God 

Must  not — tcould  not,  if  he  might. 


"  Forgetting  those  things  which  are  behind,  and  reaching 
forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before,  I  press  toward  the 
mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.' ' 
—  Phil.  3  :  13,  14. 

"  It  is  a  harder  task  to  suffer  cheerfully  in  submission  to  the 

will  of  God,  than  to  work  laboriously.  It  is  a  higher  testimony 

to  the  sustaining  power  of  the  Gospel." 

Lord,  I  believe  thy  every  word, 

Thy  every  promise  true  ; 
And  lo  !  I  wait  on  thee,  my  Lord, 

Till  I  my  strength  renew. 
If  in  this'  feeble  flesh  I  may 

Awhile  show  forth  thy  praise, 
Jesus,  support  the  tottering  clay, 

And  lengthen  out  my  days  ! 


HYMXS   FOR   THE    SICK-ROOM.  45 

If  such  a  worm  as  I  can  spread 

The  common  Saviour's  name, 
Let  him  who  raiseth  from  the  dead 

Quicken  my  mortal  frame. 
Still  let  me  live  thy  blood  to  show 

Which  purgeth  every  stain  ; 
And  gladly  linger  out  below, 

A  few  more  years  in  pain  ! 

Spare  me  till  I  my  strength  of  soul, 

Till  I  thy  love  retrieve  ; 
Till  faith  shall  make  my  spirit  whole, 

And  perfect  soundness  give. 
For  this  in  steadfast  hope  I  wait ; 

Now,  Lord,  my  soul  restore, 
Now  the  new  heavens  and  earth  create, 

And  I  shall  sin  no  more. 


•'  It  is  good  that  a  man  should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait 
for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord."  —  Lam.  3  :  26. 

"  All  the  days  of  my  appointed  time  will  I  wait,  till  my 
change  come."  — Job.  14  :  14. 

"  The  supreme  and  absolute  Former  of  all  things  giveth  not 

an  account  of  any  of  his  matters.     The  good  husbandman  may 

pluck  his  roses  and  gather  his  lilies  at  midsummer." 

Now  let  our  souls  on  wings  sublime 
Rise  from  the  vanities  of  time  ; 
Draw  back  the  parting  vail,  and  see 
The  glories  of  eternity. 

Born  by  a  new,  celestial  birth, 
Why  should  we  grovel  here  on  earth  ? 
Why  grasp  at  vain  and  fleeting  toys, 
So  near  to  heaven's  eternal  joys  ? 


46  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Shall  aught  beguile  us  on  the  road, 
While  we  are  walking  back  to  God  ? 
For  strangers  into  life  we  come, 
And  dying  is  but  going  home. 

Welcome  sweet  hour  of  full  discharge, 
That  sets  our  longing  souls  at  large, 
Unbinds  our  chains,  breaks  up  our  cell, 
And  gives  us  with  our  God  to  dwell. 

To  dwell  with  God,  to  feel  his  love, 
Is  the  full  heaven  enjoyed  above  ; 
And  the  sweet  expectation  now 
Is  the  young  dawn  of  heaven  below. 


"  My  soul  longeth,  yea,  even  fainteth  for  the  courts  of  the 
Lord."— Ps.  84  :  2. 

PRAYER    OX    BEING    DEPRIVED     OF 
RELIGIOUS    ORDINANCES. 

0  Lord  !  Thou  art  my  God  ;  early  will  I  seek  thee  ! 
My  soul  thirsteth  for  thee  ;  my  flesh  longeth  for  thee 
in  a  dry  and  thirsty  land  where  no  water  is,  to  see  thy 
power  and  thy  glory  so  as  I  have  seen  thee  in  the  sanc- 
tuary, when  I  went  with  the  multitude  unto  the  house 
of  God,  with  the  voice  of  joy  and  praise,  with  the  mul- 
titude that  kept  holiday ! 

1  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me :  "  Let  us  go  up 
unto  the  house  of  the  Lord."  For  how  amiable  are 
thy  tabernacles,  O  Lord  God  of  Hosts !  Blessed  are 
they  that  dwell  in  thy  house  ;  they  shall  be  still  prais- 
ing Thee.     For  thy  way,  O  God  !  is  in  the  sanctuary. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  47 

Who  is  so  great  a  God  as  our  God  ?  There  thou,  Lord, 
commandest  the  blessing,  even  life  for  evermore  ! 

My  soul  longeth,  yea,  even  fainteth,  for  the  courts  of 
the  Lord ;  my  heart  and  flesh  cry  out  for  the  living 
God.  For  a  day  spent  in  thy  courts  is  better  than  a 
thousand.  I  had  rather  be  a  door-keeper  in  the  house 
of  my  God,  than  dwell  in  the  tents  of  wickedness.  One 
thing  have  I  desired  of  thee,  O  Lord !  that  will  I  seek 
after,  that  I  may  dwell  in  thy  house  all  the  days  of  my 
life,  to  behold  thy  beauty,  and  to  inquire  in  thy  temple. 
For  there  have  I  sat  under  thy  shadow  with  great  de- 
light, and  thy  fruit  was  sweet  to  my  taste.  Thy  words 
were  found,  and  I  did  eat  them ;  and  thy  word  was 
unto  me  as  the  joy  and  rejoicing  of  my  heart. 

Yet  will  I  remember  thee  in  my  solitude.  For 
though  thou  lovest  the  gates  of  Zion,  thou  hast  also  a 
blessing  for  the  dwellings  of  Jacob.  Oh !  be  unto  me 
a  little  sanctuary  in  this  place  of  my  retirement.  Sat- 
isfy me  early  with  thy  mercy,  give  me  to  eat  of  that 
hidden  manna  of  which  no  one  knoweth,  saving  they 
that  receive  it,  and  to  drink  of  that  river,  the  streams 
whereof  make  glad  the  city  of  God,  that  my  soul  being 
nourished  and  refreshed  thereby,  I  may  be  enabled  to  go 
from  strength  to  strength,  till  I  appear  perfect  before 
thee  in  the  Zion  above.  May  my  fellowship  be  indeed 
this  day  with  thee,  the  Father,  and  with  thy  Son  Jesus 
Christ,  through  the  Holy  Spirit,  that  I  may  have  cause 
to  say  with  the  Patriarch  of  old,  "  Surely  the  Lord  is 
in  this  place  and  I  knew  it  not !  This  is  none  other 
than  the  house  of  God  and  the  gate  of  heaven ;"  and  to 
the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  be  all  the  glory  for- 
ever !     Amen. 


48  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


SABBATH  HYMN  FOR  A  SICK-CHAMBER. 

Thousands,  O  Lord  of  hosts !  this  day 

Around  thine  altar  meet ; 
And  tens  of  thousands  throng  to  pay 

Their  homage  at  thy  feet. 

They  see  thy  power  and  glory  there, 

As  I  have  seen  them  too  ; 
They  read,  they  hear,  they  join  in  prayer, 

As  I  was  wont  to  do. 

They  sing  thy  deeds,  as  I  have  sung, 

In  sweet  and  solemn  lays  ; 
Were  I  among  them,  my  glad  tongue 

Might  learn  new  themes  of  praise. 

For  thou  art  in  the  midst,  to  teach 

When  on  thy  name  they  call ; 
And  thou  hast  blessings,  Lord,  for  each ; 

Hast  blessings,  Lord,  for  all. 

I,  of  such  fellowship  bereft, 

In  spirit  turn  to  thee. 
Oh  !  hast  thou  not  a  blessing  left  ? 

A  blessing,  Lord,  for  me  ? 

The  dew  lies  thick  on  all  the  ground, 

Shall  my  poor  fleece  be  dry  ? 
The  manna  rains  from  heaven  around, 

Shall  I  of  hunger  die  ? 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  49 

Behold  thy  prisoner  ;  loose  my  bands, 

If  'tis  thy  gracious  will ; 
If  not,  contented  in  thy  hands, 

Behold  thy  prisoner  still ! 

I  may  not  to  thy  courts  repair, 

Yet  here  thou  surely  art ; 
Lord,  consecrate  a  house  of  prayer 

In  my  surrendered  heart. 

To  faith  reveal  the  things  unseen  ; 

To  hope  the  joys  unfold ; 
Let  love  without  a  veil  between, 

This  glory  now  behold. 

Oh  !  make  thy  face  on  me  to  shine, 

That  doubt  and  fear  may  cease ; 
Lift  up  thy  countenance  benign 

On  me,  and  give  me  peace. 


"The  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life."  —  John  14  :  6 . 

"  They  can  not  go  amiss  whose  guide  is  the  Way.  They  can 
not  err  whose  director  is  the  Truth.  They  can  not  perish 
whose  preserver  is  the  Life. 

Thou  art  the  way  :  to  thee  alone 

From  sin  and  death  we  flee  ; 
And  he  who  would  the  Father  seek, 

Must  seek  him,  Lord,  by  thee. 

Thou  art  the  truth :  thy  word  alone 

True  wisdom  can  impart ; 
Thou  only  canst  instruct  the  mind, 

And  purify  the  heart, 
3 


50  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Thou  art  the  Life  :  the  rending  tomb 
Proclaims  thy  conquering  arm  ; 

And  those  who  put  their  trust  in  thee 
!N"or  death  nor  hell  shall  harm. 

Thou  art  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life 
Grant  us  to  know  that  Way ; 

That  Truth  to  keep,  that  Life  to  win, 
Which  leads  to  endless  day. 


"  But  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  at  evening  time  it  shall  be 
light." -Zech.  14  :  7. 

"Let  me  have  a  firm  faith  in  God's  truth  and  love ;  let  me 
be  confident  that  he  will  do  what  he  hath  said,  and  perform  all 
that  he  has  promised  ;  and  I  discover  mercy's  bow  bent  on  for- 
tune's blackest  cloud,  and  under  most  trying  providences  shall 
enjoy  in  my  heart  and  exhibit  to  others  in  my  temper  the 
blessed  difference  between  a  sufferer  that  mourns,  and  a  spirit 
that  murmurs." 

We  journey  through  a  vale  of  tears, 

By  many  a  cloud  o'ercast ; 
And  worldly  cares  and  worldly  fears 

Go  with  us  to  the  last. 
Not  to  the  last !  thy  word  hath  said, 

Could  we  but  read  aright ; 
Poor  pilgrim,  lift  in  hope  thy  head, 

At  eve  there  shall  be  light ! 

Though  earth-born  shadows  now  may  shroud 

Thy  thorny  path  awhile, 
God's  blessed  word  can  part  each  cloud, 

And  bid  the  sunshine  smile. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  51 

Only  believe,  in  living  faith, 

His  love  and  power  divine, 
And  ere  thy  sun  shall  set  in  death, 

His  light  shall  round  thee  shine ! 

When  tempest-clouds  are  dark  on  high, 

His  bow  of  love  and  peace 
Shines  sweetly  in  the  vaulted  sky. 

Betokening  storms  shall  cease  ! 
Hold  on  thy  way,  with  hope  unchilled, 

By  faith  and  not  by  sight ; 
And  thou  shalt  own  his  word  fulfilled — 

At  eve  it  shall  be  light ! 


"It  is  a  good  thing  to  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  and  to 
sing  praises  unto  thy  name,  O  most  High !  to  show  forth  thy 
loving-kindness  in  the  morning,  and  thy  faithfulness  every 
night."  —  Psalm  92  :  1,  2. 

"  There  is  nothing  glorifies  God  like  praise.  '  Whoso  offer- 
eth  praise,  glorifieth  me.'  Prayer  expresses  dependence  and 
desire ;  but  praise  admiration  and  gratitude.  By  it  men  tes- 
tify and  tell  all  abroad  that  God  is  good,  and  thus  others  are 
persuaded  to  '  taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good.'  " 

God  of  my  life  !  through  all  its  days 
My  grateful  powers  shall  sound  thy  praise  ; 
The  song  shall  wake  with  opening  light, 
And  warble  to  the  silent  night. 

When  anxious  thoughts  w^ould  break  my  rest, 
Or  griefs  disturb  my  throbbing  breast, 
Thy  tuneful  praises,  raised  on  high, 
Shall  check  the  murmur  and  the  sigh. 


52  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

When  death  o'er  nature  shall  prevail, 
And  all  my  powers  of  language  fail, 
Joy  through  my  swimming  eyes  shall  break, 
And  mean  the  thanks  I  can  not  speak. 

And  oh  !  when  that  last  conflict's  o'er, 
And  I  am  chained  to  earth  no  more, 
With  what  glad  accents  shall  I  rise, 
To  join  the  triumphs  of  the  skies  ! 

Soon  shall  I  learn  the  exalted  strains 
That  echo  o'er  the  heavenly  plains, 
And  emulate,  with  joy  unknown, 
The  glowing  seraphs  round  thy  throne. 

The  cheerful  tribute  will  I  give 
Long  as  a  deathless  soul  shall  live ; 
A  work  so  sweet,  a  theme  so  high, 
Demands  and  crowns  eternity. 


"I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee."  —  Heb.  13  :  5. 

"  Christ  will  stand  by  his  people  in  trouble  and  death.  When 
flesh  and  heart  fail,  when  friends  fail,  yea,  when  life  fails, 
Christ  will  not  fail,  but  will  stand  by  us  and  strengthen  us, 
and  will  be  a  light  in  our  darkest  hours,  to  raise  our  spirits 
when  they  are  ready  to  sink  within  us — whom  he  loveth  he 
loveth  to  the  end,  or  rather  world  without  end." 

Almighty  Father  of  mankind, 

On  thee  my  hopes  remain  ; 
And  when  the  day  of  trouble  comes, 

I  shall  not  trust  in  vain. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  53 

In  early  years  thou  wast  my  guide, 

And  of  my  youth  the  friend  ; 
And  as  my  days  began  with  thee, 

With  thee  my  days  shall  end. 

I  know  the  power  in  whom  I  trust, 

The  arm  on  which  I  lean ; 
He  will  my  Saviour  ever  be, 

Who  has  my  Saviour  been. 

Thou  wilt  not  cast  me  off,  when  age 

And  evil  days  descend  ; 
Thou  wilt  not  leave  me  in  despair, 

To  mourn  my  latter  end. 

Therefore,  in  life  I'll  trust  to  thee, 

In  death  I  will  adore  ; 
And  after  death  will  sing  thy  praise, 

When  time  shall  be  no  more. 


"  For  now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly ;  but  then  face  to 
face  :  now  I  know  in  part ;  but  then  shall  I  know  even  as  also 
I  am  known."  —  1  Cor.  13  :  12. 

"What  time  I  am  afraid  I  will  trust  in  thee."  — Ps.  56  :  3. 

"  "We  see  his  working  and  we  sorrow.  The  end  of  his  coun- 
sel and  working  lieth  hidden  and  underneath  the  ground,  and 
therefore  we  can  not  believe." 

Thy  will  be  done,  I  will  not  fear 

The  fate  provided  by  thy  love  ; 
Though  clouds  and  darkness  shroud  me  here, 

I  know  that  all  is  bright  above. 


54  HYMNS  FOR   THE  SICK-ROOM. 

The  stars  of  heaven  are  shining  on, 

Though  these  frail  eyes  are  dimmed  with  tears, 

The  hopes  of  earth  indeed  are  gone, 
But  are  not  ours  th'  immortal  years  ? 

Father,  forgive  the  heart  that  clings 
Thus  trembling  to  the  things  of  time  ; 

And  bid  my  soul  on  angel- wings 
Ascend  into  a  purer  clime. 

There  shall  no  doubts  disturb  its  trust, 

~No  sorrows  dim  celestial  love  ; 
But  these  afflictions  of  the  dust, 

Like  shadows  of  the  night  remove. 

E'en  now  above  there's  radiant  day, 

While  clouds  and  darkness  brood  below : 

Then,  Father,  joyful  on  my  way 
To  drink  the  bitter  cup  I  go  ! 


"For  the  mountains  shall  depart,  and  the  hills  be  removed, 
but  my  kindness  shall  not  depart  from  thee,  neither  shall  the 
covenant  of  my  peace  be  removed,  saith  the  Lord,  that  hath 
mercy  on  thee."  —Is.  54  :  10. 

"  Thy  care,  be  it  what  it  will,  has  a  promise  either  of  sup- 
port or  of  deliverance.  If  thou  art  not  delivered,  yet,  if  Christ 
support  thee,  so  that  thy  faith  and  patience  fail  not,  does  not 
this  show  his  infinite  goodness  to  thee  ?" 

Often,  my  God  !  when  most  I  need 

Thy  pitying  aid,  I  seek  it  least ; 
And  fail  thy  promises  to  plead, 

When  weary  and  with  pain  oppressed. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  55 

For  Satan  then,  with  guileful  power, 
Draws  near,  and  tempts  me  to  delay  ; 

Suggesting  still,  from  hour  to  hour, 
"  Thou  art  too  sick,  too  weak,  to  pray. 

"  Nor  mind  nor  body  now  can  bear 
The  high  employment ;  wait  awhile." 

Oh  !  what  could  comfort  me  like  prayer  ! 
What  cheer  me  like  my  Saviour's  smile  ? 

I  will  approach  thee — I  will  force 
My  way  through  obstacles  to  thee  ; 

To  thee  for  strength  will  have  recourse, 
To  thee  for  consolation  flee. 

Not  willingly  dost  thou  so  grieve 

And  chasten  thy  still  pardoned  child  ; 

Wilt  thou  not  soon  my  pain  relieve,  ■ 

And  cheer  me  with  thy  accents  mild  ? 

Oh  !   cast  me,  cast  me  not  away 

From  thy  dear  presence,  gracious  Lord  I 

My  burden  at  thy  feet  I  lay, 
My  soul  reposes  on  thy  word. 


56  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"Lord,  increase  our  faith."  —  Luke  17  :  5. 

"  Art  thou  blind  ?  then  come  to  Jesus,  that  he  may  restore 
you.  Hast  thou  a  measure  of  light  ?  then  pray  that  he  may 
lay  his  hands  again  on  thee,  that  thou  mayest  be  enabled  to 
read  thy  title  clear  to  thy  heavenly  inheritance." 

Oh  !  for  a  faith  that  will  not  shrink, 

Though  pressed  by  every  foe, 
That  will  not  tremble  on  the  brink 

Of  any  earthly  wo  ! 

That  will  not  murmur  nor  complain 

Beneath  the  chastening  rod  ; 
But,  in  the  hour  of  grief  or  pain, 

Will  lean  upon  its  God  ; 

A  faith  that  shines  more  bright  and  clear 

When  tempests  rage  without ; 
That  when  in  danger  knows  no  fear, 

In  darkness  feels  no  doubt ; 

That  bears,  unmoved,  the  world's  dread  frown, 

Nor  heeds  its  scornful  smile  ; 
That  seas  of  trouble  can  not  drown, 

Nor  Satan's  arts  beguile  ; 

A  faith  that  keeps  the  narrow  way 

Till  life's  last  hour  is  fled, 
And,  with  a  pure  and  heavenly  ray, 

Lights  up  a  dying-bed. 

Lord,  give  us  such  a  faith  as  this, 

And  then,  whate'er  may  come, 
We'll  taste,  e'en  here,  the  hallowed  bliss 

Of  an  eternal  home. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  57 


"Perfect  love  casteth  out  fear."  — 1  John  4  :  18. 

"  Death  to  a  good  man  is  but  passing  through  a  dark  entry 
out  of  one  little  dusky  room  of  his  father's  house,  into  another 
that  is  fair  and  large,  lightsome  and  glorious,  and  divinely 
entertaining." 

Lord,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care 

Whether  I  die  or  live  ; 
To  love  and  serve  thee  is  my  share, 

And  this  thy  grace  must  give. 

If  life  be  long,  I  will  be  glad, 

That  I  may  long  obey  ; 
If  short,  yet  why  should  I  be  sad, 

To  soar  to  endless  day  ? 

Christ  leads  me  through  no  darker  rooms 

Than  he  went  through  before  ; 
He  that  unto  God's  kingdom  comes 

Must  enter  by  his  door. 

Come,  Lord,  when  grace  has  made  me  meet 

Thy  blessed  face  to  see  ; 
For  if  thy  work  on  earth  be  sweet, 

"What  will  thy  glory  be  ? 

Then  shall  I  end  my  sad  complain  1  s 

And  weary  sinful  days, 
And  join  with  the  triumphant  saints 

That  sing  Jehovah's  praise. 

My  knowledge  of  that  life  is  small, 

The  eye  of  faith  is  dim  ; 
But  'tis  enough  that  Christ  knows  all, 

And  I  shall  be  with  him. 


58  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"Beloved,  think  it  not  strange  concerning  the  fiery  trial 
■which  is  to  try  you,  as  though  some  strange  thing  happened 
unto  you :  But  rejoice,  inasmuch  as  ye  are  partakers  of 
Christ's  sufferings  ;  that  when  his  glory  shall  be  revealed,  ye 
may  be  glad  also  with  exceeding  joy."  —  1  Peter  4  :  12,  13. 

11  God  has  need  of  sufferers,  as  well  as  of  laborers  in  Ms 
kingdom.  The  service  of  the  sufferer  is  a  more  difficult,  and, 
therefore,  a  higher  service  than  that  of  the  laborer.  Not  every 
one  is  qualified  for  the  higher  service.  God,  therefore,  takes 
those,  sometimes,  who  promised  to  be  the  most  effective 
laborers,  and  transforms  them  into  sufferers." 

When  this  passing  world  is  doisc, 
When  has  sunk  yon  glaring  sun, 
When  we  stand  with  Christ  in  glory, 
Looking  o'er  life's  finished  story, 
Then,  Lord,  shall  I  fully  know — 
Not  till  then — how  much  I  owe. 

When  I  stand  before  the  throne, 
Dressed  in  beauty  not  my  own, 
When  I  see  thee  as  thou  art, 
Love  thee  with  unsinning  heart, 
Then,  Lord,  shall  I  fully  know — 
Not  till  then — how  much  I  owe. 

When  the  praise  of  heaven  I  hear, 
Loud  as  thunders  to  the  ear, 
Loud  as  many  waters'  noise, 
Sweet  as  harp's  melodious  voice, 
Then,  Lord,  shall  I  fully  know — 
Not  till  then — how  much  I  owe. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  59 

Chosen  not  for  good  in  me, 
Wakened  up  from  wrath  to  flee, 
Hidden  in  the  Saviour's  side, 
By  the  Spirit  sanctified  ; 
Teach  me,  Lord,  on  earth  to  show, 
By  my  love,  how  much  I  owe. 

Oft  I  walk  beneath  the  cloud, 
Dark  as  midnight's  gloomy  shroud  ; 
But  when  fear  is  at  the  height, 
Jesus  comes,  and  all  is  light. 
Blessed  Jesus  !  bid  me  show 
Doubting  saints  how  much  I  owe. 

Oft  the  nights  of  sorrow  reign — 
Weeping,  sickness,  sighing,  pain.; 
But  a  night  thine  anger  burns — 
Morning  comes,  and  joy  returns  : 
Blessed  Jesus  !  bid  me  show 
Weary  sinners  all  I  owe. 


"  He  is  the  rock,  his  work  is  perfect."  —  Deut.  32  :  4. 

"  Reeds  fail,  but  the  rock  is  firm  footing  ;  yea,  when  the  soul 
can  no  longer  tabernacle  here,  it  can  cast  itself  upon  God  with, 
'  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit.'  " 

Rock  of  ages  !  cleft  for  me  ! 

Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee  ! 

Let  the  water  and  the  blood, 

From  thy  wounded  side  which  flowed, 

Be  of  sin  the  double  cure  ; 

Cleanse  me  from  its  guilt  and  power. 


60  fiYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Not  the  labor  of  my  hands 
Can  fulfill  thy  law's  demands  ; 
Could  my  zeal  no  respite  know, 
Could  my  tears  forever  flow  ; 
All  for  sin  could  not  atone  ; 
Thou  must  save,  and  thou  alone. 

Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring, 
Simply  to  thy  cross  I  cling  ; 
Naked,  come  to  thee  for  dress, 
Helpless,  look  to  thee  for  grace  ; 
Vile  !  I  to  the  fountain  fly, 
Wash  me,  Saviour,  or  I  die. 

While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
When  my  eyelids  close  in  death, 
When  I  soar  to  worlds  unknown, 
See  thee  on  thy  judgment  throne- 
Rock  of  ages,  shelter  me  ! 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee  ! 


"I  shall  be  satisfied,  when  I  awake,  with  thy  likeness."— 
Ps.  17  :  15. 

"  0  ye  who,  in  this  tabernacle,  do  groan,  being  burdened ; 
bear  up,  and  press  on  ;  for  the  day  of  your  redemption  draw- 
eth  nigh  :  soon  shall  ye  pass  through  the  waters,  leaning  on 
your  beloved,  and  enter  into  his  rest — and  his  rest  shall  be 
glorious." 

Tossed  on  the  billows  far  and  wide, 
And  struggling  'gainst  a  whelming  tide, 
When  shall  I  to  the  haven  come, 
And  moor  my  bark,  and  see  my  home  ? 
When  I  am  over  Jordan  ! 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  61 

When  shall  I  see  my  sins  all  slain  ? 
When  shall  I  see  my  Saviour  reign 
Victorious  o'er  these  fears  of  mine, 
Which  dare  his  boundless  love  confine  ? 
When  I  am  over  Jordan  ! 

When  shall  I  see  him  face  to  face, 
And  find  a  blessed  resting-place  ? 
And  hide  me  where  his  people  hide, 
Who  have  been  washed  and  purified  ? 
When  I  am  over  Jordan  ! 

When  shall  my  falt'ring  tongue  confess 
The  wonders  of  his  righteousness  ? 
And  sing  the  song  the  ransomed  raise, 
Dearer  than  angels'  loftiest  praise  ? 
When  I  am  over  Jordan  ! 

Here,  cast  about,  and  faint  and  weak, 
Dumb  when  I  would  his  praises  speak  ; 
There  shall  my  voice  ring  out  on  high, 
Till  heaven's  wide  arches  give  reply — 
When  I  am  over  Jordan  ! 


"  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  weary  and  are  heavy  laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest."— Matt.  11 :  28. 

"  You  are  weary  and  heavy  laden  ;  well,  it  is  you  Christ  in- 
vites to  come  to  him  and  find  rest.  He  asks  you  to  cling  to 
him,  to  lean  on  him  ;  he  does  not  command  you  to  walk  alone 
without  stumbling.     He  does  not  tell  you,  as  your  fellow-men 


62  HYMNS  FOE  THE   SICK-EOOM. 

do,  that  you  must  first  merit  his  love ;  he  neither  condemns 
nor  reproaches  you  for  the  past,  he  only  bids  you  come  to  him 
that  you  may  have  life." 

Jesus,  full  of  all  compassion, 

Hear  thine  humble  suppliant's  cry ; 
Let  me  know  thy  great  salvation ; 

See  !  I  languish,  faint,  and  die. 
Guilty,  but  with  heart  relenting, 

Overwhelmed  with  helpless  grief, 
Prostrate  at  thy  feet  repenting — 

Send,  oh !  send  me  quick  relief. 

"Whither  should  a  wretch  be  flying, 

But  to  him  who  comfort  gives  ? 
Whither,  from  the  dread  of  dying, 

But  to  him  who  ever  lives  ? 
While  I  view  thee,  wounded,  grieving, 

Breathless  on  the  cursed  tree, 
Fain  I'd  feel  my  heart  believing 

Thou  didst  suffer  thus  for  me. 

With  thy  righteousness  and  spirit, 

I  am  more  than  angels  blest ; 
Heir  with  thee,  all  things  inherit, 

Peace,  and  joy,  and  endless  rest. 
Without  thee,  the  world  possessing, 

I  should  be  a  wretch  undone  ; 
Search  through  heaven,  the  land  of  blessing, 

Seeking  good,  and  finding  none. 

Hear  then,  blessed  Saviour,  hear  me  ! 
Mv  soul  cleaveth  to  the  dust ; 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  63 

Send  the  Comforter  to  cheer  me  ; 

Lo  !  in  thee  I  put  my  trust, 
On  the  word  thy  blood  hath  sealed, 

Hangs  my  everlasting  all ; 
Let  thine  arm  be  now  revealed ; 

Stay,  oh  !  stay  me  lest  I  fall. 

In  the  world  of  endless  ruin, 

Let  it  never,  Lord,  be  said  : 
"  Here's  a  soul  that  perished,  suing 

For  the  boasted  Saviour's  aid  !  " 
Saved  !  the  deed  shall  spread  new  glory 

Through  the  shining  realms  above ; 
Angels  sing  the  pleasing  story, 

All  enraptured  with  thy  love. 


"  I  will  be  to  them  a  God,  and  they  shall  be  to  me  a  peo- 
ple." —  Rom.  8  :  10. 

"  The  Father  sinks  you  on  earth  that  you  may  rise  in 
heaven,  and  makes  you  sad  for  a  moment  that  he  may  make 
you  happier  through  eternity  there.  '  The  trying  of  your 
faith  worketh  patience.'  " 

My  God,  the  cov'nant  of  thy  love 

Abides  forever  sure ; 
And,  in  its  matchless  grace,  I  feel 

My  happiness  secure. 

Since  thou,  the  everlasting  God, 

My  Father  art  become  ; 
Jesus,  my  Guardian  and  my  Friend, 

And  heaven  my  final  home  ; 


64  HYMNS   FOE  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

I  welcome  all  thy  sov'reign  will, 

For  all  that  will  is  love  ; 
And  when  I  know  not  what  thou  dost, 

I  wait  the  light  above. 

Thy  cov'nant  in  the  darkest  gloom 
Shall  heavenly  rays  impart ; 

And  when  my  eyelids  close  in  death, 
Sustain  my  fainting  heart. 


"  And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  will  draw  all 
men  unto  me."  —  John  12  :  32. 

"  Think  of  him  whose  love  fills  heaven  with  happiness  ; 
whose  dying  sorrows  have  procured  immortal  life  for  countless 
multitudes  ;  whose  compassion  shines  like  the  noon-day  sun, 
but'  has  no  setting  beam  ;  and  can  you  distrust  such  tender- 
ness, or  droop  beneath  the  noon-day  warmth  of  such  compas- 
sion ?" 

O  sacred  head  !  now  wounded, 

With  grief  and  shame  weighed  down  ; 
O  sacred  brow !  surrounded 

With  thorns,  thine  only  crown  ! 
Once  on  a  throne  of  glory, 

Adorned  with  light  divine, 
Now  all  despised  and  gory, 

I  joy  to  call  thee  mine. 

O  noblest  brow  and  dearest ! 

In  other  days  the  world 
All  feared  as  thou  appearedst ; 

What  shame  is  on  thee  hurled ! 


HYMXS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  65 

How  art  thou  pale  with  anguish, 

With  sore  abuse  and  scorn  ; 
How  does  that  bosom  languish 

Which  once  was  bright  as  morn. 

The  blushes  late  residing 

Upon  that  holy  cheek ; 
The  roses  once  abiding 

Upon  those  lips  so  meek  ; 
Alas  !  they  have  departed  ; 

Pale  death  has  rifled  all  ! 
For  weak  and  broken-hearted 

I  see  thy  body  fall. 

What  thou,  my  Lord,  hast  suffered, 

Was  all  for  sinners'  gain — 
Mine,  mine,  was  the  transgression, 

But  thine  the  deadly  pain ! 
Lo  !  here  I  fall,  my  Saviour, 

'Tis  I  deserve  thy  place ; 
Look  on  me  with  thy  favor, 

Vouchsafe  to  me  thy  grace. 

Receive  me,  my  Redeemer, 

My  Shepherd,  make  me  thine  ; 
Of  every  good  the  fountain, 

Thou  art  the  spring  of  mine. 
Thy  lips  with  love  distilling, 

And  milk  of  truth  sincere, 
With  heaven's  bliss  are  rilling 

The  soul  that  trembles  here. 


HYilXS   FOR  THE    SICK-ROOM. 

Beside  thee,  Lord,  I've  taken 

My  place — forbid  me  not ! 
Hence  will  I  ne'er  be  shaken, 

Though  thou  to  death  be  brought. 
If  pain's  last  paleness  hold  thee 

In  agony  oppressed, 
Then,  then,  will  I  enfold  thee 

Within  this  arm  and  breast. 

The  joy  can  ne'er  be  spoken 

Above  all  joys  beside, 
"When  in  thy  body  broken 

I  thus  with  safety  hide. 
My  Lord  of  life  desiring 

Thy  glory  now  to  see, 
Beside  the  cross  expiring, 

I'd  breathe  my  soul  to  thee. 

What  language  can  I  borrow 

To  thank  thee,  dearest  Friend, 
For  this  thy  dying  sorrow, 

Thy  pity  without  end  ? 
Oh !  make  me  thine  forever  ; 

And  should  I  fainting  be, 
Lord,  let  me  never,  never 

Outlive  my  love  to  thee. 

Be  near  when  I  am  dying  ; 

Oh  !  show  thy  cross  to  me, 
And  for  my  succor  flying, 

Come,  Lord,  to  set  me  free. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  67 

These  eyes  new  faith  receiving, 

From  Jesus  shall  not  move  ; 
For  he  who  dies  believing, 

Dies  safely  in  thy  love. 


"  I  know,  O  Lord !  that  thy  judgments  are  right,  and  that 
thou  in  very  faithfulness  hast  afflicted  me."— Psalm  119  :  75. 

11  Sickness  is  the  rod  of  God,  sometimes  falling  lightly  on 
us,  at  other  times  more  heavily.  Let  us  kiss  the  rod  ;  let  us 
open  our  mouth  wide  to  the  blessing,  seeking  so  to  profit  by 
each  bodily  ailment,  slight  or  severe,  that  it  may  bring  forth 
in  us  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness.  '  I  know,'  says 
one,  '  of  no  greater  blessing  than  health,  except  pain  and  sick- 
ness.' " 

Saviour  !  I  can  welcome  sickness, 
If  these  words  be  said  of  me  ; 
Can  rejoice,  'midst  pain  and  weakness, 
If  I  am  but  loved  by  thee  ; 

Love  so  precious 
Balm  for  every  wound  will  be. 

Thou  who  wait  est  not  for  fitness 
In  the  souls  thy  blood  has  saved, 

Let  thy  spirit  now  bear  witness 
He  this  sentence  has  engraved." 

Love  so  precious 
Gives  me  all  my  prayers  have  craved. 

Though  that  love  sends  days  of  sadness 

In  a  life  so  brief  as  this, 
It  prepares  me  days  of  gladness 

And  a  life  of  perfect  bliss. 
Love  so  precious 

Bids  me  every  fear  dismiss. 


68  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

"Forever  with  the  Lord."  — 1  Thess.  4  :  17. 

"  In  this  world  there  can  not  be  that  harmony  and  oneness 
of  body  and  soul  that  there  will  be  in  heaven.  Here  the  body 
sometimes  sins  against  the  soul,  and  the  soul  vexes  and  per- 
plexes the  body.     In  heaven  shall  be  perfect  union." 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  !" 
Amen  !  so  let  it  be  : 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word ; 
'Tis  immortality ! 

Here  in  the  body  pent, 

Absent  from  him  I  roam, 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent 

A  day's  march  nearer  home. 

My  Father's  house  on  high, 

Home  of  my  soul,  how  near 
At  times  to  faith's  illumined  eye 

Thy  golden  gates  appear  ! 

My  thirsty  spirit  faints 

To  reach  the  land  I  love, 
The  bright  inheritance  of  saints, 
„  Jerusalem  above. 

Yet  clouds  will  intervene, 

And  all  my  prospect  flies  ; 
Like  Noah's  dove,  I  flit  between 

Rough  seas  and  stormy  skies. 

Anon  the  clouds  disperse, 

The  winds  and  waters  cease, 
And  sweetly  o'er  my  gladdened  heart 

Expands  the  bow  of  peace. 


HYMN'S   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  69 

Beneath  the  flowery  arch, 

Along  the  hallowed  ground, 
I  see  cherubic  armies  march, 

A  camp  of  fire  around. 

Then,  then  I  feel  that  he, 

Remembered  or  forgot, 
The  Lord,  is  never  far  from  me, 

Though  I  perceive  him  not. 

All  that  I  am,  have  been, 

All  that  I  yet  may  be, 
He  sees  as  he  hath  ever  seen, 

And  shall  forever  see. 

How  can  I  meet  his  eyes  ! 

Mine  on  the  cross  I  cast, 
And  own  my  life  a  Saviour's  prize, 

Mercy  from  first  to  last. 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  !" 
Father,  if  'tis  thy  will, 
The  promise  of  thy  gracious  word, 
E'en  here  to  me  fulfill. 

Be  thou  at  my  right  hand ; 

So  shall  I  never  fail : 
Uphold  thou  me  and  I  shall  stand ; 

Help,  and  I  shall  prevail. 

So,  when  my  latest  breath 

Shall  rend  the  vail  in  twain, 
By  death  I  shall  escape  from  death, 

And  life  eternal  gain. 


70  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Knowing  as  I  am  known, 

How  shall  I  love  that  word, 
And  oft  repeat  before  the  throne, 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord !" 

The  trump  of  final  doom 

Shall  speak  the  self-same  word, 

And  heaven's  voice  sound  through  the  tomb, 
"  Forever  with  the  Lord  !" 

Then  shall  I  upward  fly  ; 

That  resurrection  word 
Shall  be  my  shout  of  victory, 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  !" 


'•  In  the  multitude  of  my  thoughts  within  me,  thy  comforts 
delight  my  soul."  —  Ps.  94  :  19. 

"Confident  we  are  the  life  and  death,  the  blood  and  right- 
eousness of  Jesus  are  the  life  of  our  graces,  the  spring  of  our 
comforts,  the  support  of  our  weary  minds,  and  the  only  reviving 
cordial  of  our  fainting  spirits.  Are  we  panting  sinners  at  his 
footstool  ?  Considering  Jesus  makes  us  joyful  before  his 
throne  now,  soon  we  shall  stand  eternally  happy  in  his 
presence." 

O  Lord  !  how  happy  is  the  time 

When  in  thy  love  I  rest ; 
When  from  my  weariness  I  climb 

E'en  to  thy  tender  breast. 
The  night  of  sorrow  endeth  there, 

Thy  rays  outshine  the  sun ; 
And  in  thy  pardon  and  thy  care 

The  heaven  of  heavens  is  won  ! 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  71 

Let  the  world  call  itself  my  foe, 

Or  let  the  world  allure  ; 
I  care  not  for  the  world,  I  go 

To  this  tried  Friend  and  sure ; 
And  when  life's  fiercest  storms  are  sent 

Upon  life's  wildest  sea, 
My  little  bark  is  confident, 

Because  it  holds  by  thee. 

When  the  law  threatens  endless  death, 

Upon  the  dreadful  hill, 
Straightway  from  its  consuming  breath 

My  soul  mounts  higher  still ; 
She  hastes  to  Jesus,  wounded,  slain, 

And  finds  in  him  her  home, 
Whence  she  shall  not  go  forth  again, 

And  where  no  death  can  come. 

And  if  the  gate  that  opens  there 

Be  closed  to  other  men, 
It  is  not  closed  to  those  who  share 

The  heart  of  Jesus  then  ; 
That  is  not  losing  much  of  life 

Which  is  not  losing  thee — 
Thou  art  as  present  in  the  strife 

As  in  the  victory. 

Wherefore,  how  happy  is  the  time 

When  in  thy  love  I  rest ; 
When  from  my  weariness  I  climb 

E'en  to  thy  tender  breast  ! 


72  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

The  night  of  sorrow  endeth  there, 
Thy  rays  outshine  the  sun  ; 

And  in  thy  pardon  and  thy  care, 
The  heaven  of  heaven  is  won  ! 


"  These  things  have  I  spoken  unto  you,  that  in  me  ye  might 
have  peace.  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation."  —  John 
16  :33. 

■  The  fellowship  of  his  sufferings."  —  Phil.  3  :  10. 

"  As  peace  was  left  to  you  in  Christ's  Testament,  so  the 
other  half  of  the  legacy  was  Christ's  sufferings.  Because,  then, 
ye  are  made  heirs  and  assigns  to  a  life-rent  of  Christ's  cross, 
think  that  fiery  trial  no  strange  thing." 

Thou  who  didst  stoop  below 

To  drain  the  cup  of  woe, 
And  wear  the  form  of  frail  mortality, 

Thy  blessed  labors  done, 

Thy  crown  of  victory  won, 
Hast  passed  from  earth — passed  to  thy  home  on  high, 

It  was  no  path  of  flowers, 

Through  this  dark  world  of  ours, 
Beloved  of  the  Father  !  thou  didst  tread  ; 

And  shall  we  in  dismay 

Shrink  from  the  narrow  way, 
When  clouds  and  darkness  are  around  it  spread  ? 

O  thou  who  art  our  life  ! 

Be  with  us  through  the  strife  ; 
"Was  not  thy  head  by  earth's  rude  tempests  bowed  ? 

Raise  thou  our  eyes  above 

To  see  a  Father's  love 
Beam,  like"  the  bow  of  promise,  through  the  cloud. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM.  73 

E'en  through  the  awful  gloom 

Which  hovers  o'er  the  tomb, 
That  light  of  love  our  guiding  star  shall  be ; 

Our  spirits  shall  not  dread 

The  shadowy  way  to  tread, 
Friend,  guardian,  Saviour  !  which  doth  lead  to  thee. 


"  Therefore  I  will  allure  her,  and  bring  her  into  the  wilder- 
ness, and  speak  comfortably  unto  her  ;  and  I  will  give  her 
vineyards  from  thence."— Hosea  2  :  14,  15. 

M  And  he  made  him  to  suck  honey  out  of  the  rock,  and 
oil  out  of  the  flinty  rock."—  Deut.  32  :  13. 

"  We  take  comparatively  little  note  of  the  vine  amid  a  hun- 
dred other  tokens  of  fertility  ;  and  the  honey  is,  perhaps, 
almost  untasted,  when  even  luscious  fruit  is  offering  itself 
abundantly.  The  worth  of  the  vineyard  is  felt  when  met  in  the 
wilderness,  and  the  honey,  to  be  appreciated,  must  be  found  in 
the  rock." 

When  I  can  trust  my  all  with  God, 

In  trial's  fearfcil  hour, 
Bow,  all  resigned,  beneath  his  rod, 

And  bless  his  sparing  power, 
A  joy  springs  up  amid  distress, 
A  fountain  in  the  wilderness. 

Oh  !  to  be  brought  to  Jesus'  feet, 

Though  trials  fix  me  there, 
Is  still  a  privilege  most  sweet, 

For  he  will  hear  my  prayer ; 
Though  sighs  and  tears  its  language  be, 
The  Lord  is  nigh  to  answer  me. 


74  HYMNS  FOR   THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Oh  !  blessed  be  the  hand  that  gave — 
Still  blessed  when  it  takes  ; 

Blessed  be  he  who  smites  to  save — 
Who  heals  the  heart  he  breaks  ; 

Perfect  and  true  are  all  his  ways, 

Whom  heaven  adores  and  death  obeys. 


"  Fear  not :  for  I  have  redeemed  thee,  I  have  called  thee 
by  my  name  ;  thou  art  mine.  "When  thou  passest  through 
the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee  ;  and  through  the  rivers,  they 
shall  not  overflow  thee."— Isaiah  43:1,  2. 

"  The  death  and  resurrection  of  the  Son  of  God  are  stepping- 
stones  and  a  stay  to  you.  Set  down  your  feet  by  faith  upon 
these  stones,  and  go  through,  as  on  dry  land." 

Christ,  of  all  my  hopes  the  ground — 
Christ,  the  spring  of  all  my  joy ! 

Still  in  thee  let  me  be  found, 

Still  for  thee  my  powers  employ. 

Fountain  of  o'erflowing  grace  ! 

Freely  from  thy  fullness  give  ; 
Till  I  close  my  earthly  race, 

Be  it  "  Christ  for  me  to  live  !" 

Firmly  trusting  in  thy  blood, 

Nothing  shall  my  heart  confound  ; 

Safely  I  shall  pass  the  flood, 

Safely  reach  Immanuel's  ground. 

When  I  touch  the  blessed  shore, 
Back  the  closing  waves  shall  roll ; 

Death's  dark  stream  shall  never  more 
Part  from  thee  my  ravished  soul. 


HYMNS    FOR   THE    SICK-ROOM.  75 

Thus,  oh  !  thus  an  entrance  give 

To  the  land  of  cloudless  skies  ; 
Having  known  it  "  Christ  to  live," 

Let  me  know  it  "  gain  to  die." 


"  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him."  —  Job  13  :  15. 

11  Sickness  teaches  us  that  activity  of  service  is  not  the  only- 
way  in  which  God  is  glorified.  '  They  also  serve  who  only 
stand  and  wait'  Active  duty  is  that  which  man  judges  most 
acceptable  ;  but  God  shows  us  that  in  bearing  and  suffering  he 
is  also  glorified." 

Faith  almost  changes  into  sight 

When  from  afar  she  spies 
Her  fair  inheritance  in  light 

Above  created  skies. 

Had  but  the  prison  walls  been  strong, 

And  firm,  without  a  flaw, 
In  darkness  she  had  dwelt  too  long, 

And  less  of  glory  saw. 

But  now  the  everlasting  hills 

Through  every  chink  appear  ; 
And  something  of  the  joy  she  feels 

"While  she's  a  prisoner  here. 

The  beams  of  heaven  rush  sweetly  in 

At  all  the  gaping  flaws ; 
Visions  of  endless  bliss  are  seen, 

And  native  air  she  draws. 


76  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Oh  !  may  these  walls  stand  tottering  still, 

The  breaches  never  close  ; 
If  I  must  here  in  darkness  dwell, 

And  all  this  glory  lose  ! 

Or  rather  let  this  flesh  decay, 

The  ruins  wider  grow  ;     . 
Till,  glad  to  see  th'  enlarged  way, 

I  stretch  my  pinions  through  ! 


""Wait  on  the  Lord  :   be  of   good    courage,   and   he  shall 
strengthen  thine  heart :  wait,  I  say,  on  the  Lord.— Ps.  27  :  14* 

.  "  God  could  give  you  health  ;  to  give  you  health  would  be  a 
little  thing,  compared  with  giving  you  Christ.  Surely,  if  he 
does  not  give  you  health,  the  reason  must  be  that  he  sees  it 
best  to  appoint  you  sickness.  Doubt  not  his  love  who  gave 
you  a  Saviour." 

Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss 

Thy  sovereign  wTill  denies, 
Accepted  at  thy  throne  of  grace 

Let  this  petition  rise  : 

Give  me  a  calm  and  thankful  heart, 

From  every  murmur  free  ; 
The  blessings  of  thy  grace  impart, 

And  let  me  live  to  thee. 

Let  the  sweet  hope  that  thou  art  mine 

My  life  and  death  attend  ; 
Thy  presence  through  my  journey  shine, 

And  crown  my  journey's  end. 


HYMNS   FOE  THE   SICK-ROOM.  77 


"  And  the  Spirit  and  the  bride  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that 
heareth  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst  come.  And 
whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely."— Rev. 
22  :  17. 

"  What  do  we  here  but  sin  and  suffer  ?  Oh  !  when  shall  the 
night  be  gone,  the  shadows  flee  away,  and  the  morning  of  that 
long,  long  day,  without  cloud  or  night,  dawn  !  The  Spirit  and 
the  bride  say,  Come.  Oh  !  when  shall  the  Lamb's  wife  be 
ready,  and  the  bridegroom  say,  Come  !" 

With  tearful  eyes  I  look  around, 
Life  seems  a  dark  and  stormy  sea ; 

Yet  midst  the  gloom  I  hear  a  sound, 
A,heavenly  whisper — "  Come  to  me!" 

It  tells  me  of  a  place  of  rest ; 

It  tells  me  where  my  soul  may  flee  ! 
Oh !  to  the  weary,  faint,  opprest, 

How  sweet  the  bidding — "  Come  to  me  !" 

When  the  poor  heart  with  anguish  learns 
That  earthly  props  resigned  must  be, 

And  from  each  broken  cistern  turns, 
It  hears  the  accents — "  Come  to  me." 

When  nature  shudders,  loth  to  part 

From  all  I  love,  enjoy,  and  see  ; 
When  a  faint  chill  steals  o'er  my  heart, 

A  sweet  voice  utters — "  Come  to  me." 

"  Come,  for  all  else  must  fail  and  die  ; 
Earth  is  no  resting-place  for  thee ; 
Heavenward  direct  thy  weeping  eye  ; 
I  am  thy  portion — Come  to  me." 


78  HYMNS  FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM. 

O  voice  of  mercy  !  voice  of  love ! 

In  death's  last  fearful  agony, 
Support  me,  cheer  me,  from  above, 

And  gently  whisper — "  Come  to  me." 


"  Leave   me   not,  neither  forsake  me,  O   God  of  my  salva- 
tion."—Ps.  27  :  9. 

"  The  chastened  spirit  must  find  peace  in  believing,  not  that 
he  is  the  best  of  men,  but  that  he  is  the  '  chief  of  sinners ;' 
not  in  holding  fast  his  integrity,  but  in  repenting  in  dust  and 
ashes." 

O  thou  God  who  hear  est  prayer, 
Every  hour  and  every  where  ! 
Listen  to  my  feeble  breath, 
Now  I  touch  the  gates  of  death  ; 
For  his  sake,  whose  blood  I  plead, 
Hear  me  in  my  hour  of  need, 

Hear  and  save  me,  gracious  Lord  ! 
For  my  trust  is  in  thy  word ; 
Wash  me  from  the  stain  of  sin, 
That  thy  peace  may  rule  within. 
May  I  know  myself  thy  child, 
Ransomed,  pardoned,  reconciled. 

Dearest  Lord,  may  I  so  much 
As  thy  garment's  hem  but  touch, 
Or  but  raise  my  languid  eye 
To  the  cross  where  thou  didst  die, 
It  shall  make  my  spirit  whole, 
It  shall  heal  and  save  my  soul. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  79 

Thou  art  merciful  to  save  ! 

Thou  hast  snatched  me  from  the  grave  t 

I  would  kiss  the  chastening  rod, 

O  my  Father  and  my  God  ! 

Only  hide  not  now  thy  face, 

God  of  all-sufficient  grace  ! 

Leave  me  not,  my  strength,  my  trust ! 
Oh  !  remember  I'm  but  dust  ! 
Leave  me  not  again  to  stray  ; 
Leave  me  not  the  tempter's  prey. 
Fix  my  heart  on  things  above  ; 
Make  me  happy  in  thy  love. 


"  Casting  all  your  care  upon  him,  for  he  careth  for  you."— 
1  Pet.  5  :  7. 

"  There  is  a  reason  given  by  Peter  for  casting  care  on  God, 
that  is  expressibly  touching.  He  says,  •  casting  all  your 
care  on  him,'  and  then  follows  no  flourish  of  rhetoric,  no  parade 
of  reasons,  but  this — oh !  how  happily  selected,  I  would  say, 
but  that  he  wrote  by  inspiration,  which  does  every  thing  feli- 
citously— '  for  he  careth  for  you.'  " 

Are  the  days  of  darkness  many  ? 

Are  such  now  assigned  to  me  ? 
Yet,  O  Lord,  there  are  not  any 

Which  may  not  be  spent  with  thee  : 
Saviour,  thou  canst  make  them  bright  ; 
Turn  my  darkness  into  light. 

Shall  distress,  however  bitter, 

Separate  my  soul  from  thee  ? 
No  !  distress  but  makes  it  fitter 


80  HYMXS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

To  its  hiding-place  to  flee  : 
Though  of  all  beside  bereft, 
>Tis  enough  if  thou  art  left. 

Should  it  please  thee  now  to  sever 
Life-long  unions,  dearest  ties, 

"Whisper,  "  I  will  leave  thee  never," 
This  shall  check  my  tears  and  sighs  ; 

He  whose  mind  is  "  stayed  on  thee," 

Kever  desolate  shaU  be. 


"  All  things  are  yours  ;  whether  Paul,  or  Apollos,  or  Cephas f 
or  the  world,  or  life,  or  death,  or  things  present,  or  things 
to  come ;  all  are  yours  ;  and  ye  are  Christ's  ;  and  Christ  is 
God's."  —  1  Cor.  3  :  22,  23. 

"  '  There  shall  no  evil  befall  thee,  neither  shall  any  plague 
come  nigh  thy  dwelling,'  is  a  promise  to  the  fullest  extent  veri- 
fied in  the  case  of  all  who  '  dwell  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most 
High.'  To  them,  sorrows  are  not  'evils,'  sicknesses  are  not 
'  plagues  ;'  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty,  extending  far  around 
those  who  abide  under  it,  alters  the  character  of  all  things 
which  come  within  its  influence." 

If  God  is  mine,  then  present  things 

And  things  to  come  are  mine  ; 
Yea,  Christ,  his  word,  and  spirit,  too, 

And  glory  all  divine. 

"If  he  is  mine,  then  from  his  love 

He  every  trouble  sends  ; 
All  things  are  working  for  my  good, 

And  bliss  his  rod  attends. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  81 

If  he  is  mine,  I  need  not  fear 

The  rage  of  earth  and  hell ; 
He  will  support  my  feeble  power, 

Their  utmost  force  repel. 

If  he  is  mine,  let  friends  forsake, 

Let  wealth  and  honors  nee — 
Sure,  he  who  giveth  me  himself, 

Is  more  than  these  to  me. 

If  he  is  mine,  I'll  boldly  pass 

Through  death's  tremendous  vale  ; 

He  is  a  solid  comfort  when 
All  other  comforts  fail. 

Oh  !  tell  me,  Lord,  that  thou  art  mine  ; 

What  can  I  wish  beside  ? 
My  soul  shall  at  the  fountain  live, 

When  all  the  streams  are  dried. 


m  For  our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  work- 
eth  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory.'' 
-2  Cor.  4  :  17. 

"  So  that  glory  is  not  merely  the  issue  of  the  tribulation,  but 
in  some  sense,  its  product.  Tribulation  is  the  soil,  and  glory 
is  the  blossom  and  the  fruit." 

O  Saviour  !  whose  mercy,  severe  in  its  kindness, 

Has  chastened  my  wanderings,  and  guided  my  way  ; 

Adored  be  the  power  which  illumined  my  blindness, 
And  weaned  me  from  phantoms  that  smiled  to  betray. 


82  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

I  thought  that  the  course  of  the  pilgrim  to  heaven 
Would  be  bright  as  the  summer,  and  glad  as  the 
morn ; 

Thou  showedst  me  the  path — it  was  dark  and  uneven — 
All  rugged  with  rock,  and  all  tangled  with  thorn. 

I  dreamed  of  celestial  rewards  and  renown  ; 

I  grasped  at  the  triumph  which  blesses  the  brave  ; 
I  asked  for  the  palm-branch,  the  robe,  and  the  crown — 

I  asked — and  thou  showedst  me  a  cross  and  a  grave. 

Subdued  and  instructed,  at  length  to  thy  will, 
My  hopes  and  my  longings  I  fain  would  resign ; 

Oh  !  give  me  the  heart  that  can  wait  and  be  still, 
Xor  know  of  a  wish  or  a  pleasure  but  thine  ! 

There  are  mansions  exempted  from  sin  and  from  wo, 
But  they  stand  in  a  region  by  mortals  untrod  ; 

There  are  rivers  of  joy,  but  they  roll  not  below  ; 
There  is  rest,  but  it  dwells  in  the  presence  of  God. 


"  Having  a  desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ."— Phii.  1 :  23. 

"  Death  is  not  to  be  desired  for  itself.  The  Apostle  chose 
rather  to  be  clothed  upon  with  his  house  which  is  from  heaven, 
that  mortality  might  be  swallowed  up  of  life.  But  yet,  rather 
than  he  would  be  absent  from  the  Lord,  he  was  willing  to  be 
absent  from  the  body.  Christ  in  glory  is  worth  the  being 
with." 

Where  shall  the  weary  rest  ? 

The  child  of  sorrow  where  ? 
In  Jesus'  arms,  forever  blest, 

Soon  shall  he  banish  care. 


HYMNS  FOR   THE   SICK-ROOM.  83 

When  shall  the  sufferer's  pain, 

The  groan  of  anguish,  cease  ? 
In  heaven  the  saints  no  more  complain, 

But  all  is  endless  peace. 

When  shall  temptation's  power 

No  longer  break  repose  ? 
There  comes  a  near,  a  blissful  hour, 

Which  no  disturbance  knows. 

When  shall  this  aching  heart. 

With  every  loved  one  dwell  ? 
In  worlds  above  they  never  part, 

They  never  say  "  farewell." 

Where  is  the  blest  abode 

Whence  none  shall  ever  roam  ? 
There,  in  the  presence  of  our  God, 

Is  our  eternal  home. 

Lord,  in  that  happy  land, 

From  sin  and  sorrow  free, 
Grant  us  among  thy  chosen  band 

To  live  in  joy  with  thee. 


"  What  man  is  he  that  liveth  and  shall  not  see  death  ?"  — 
Ps.  89  :  43. 

"  I  will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of  the  grave  ;  I  will 
redeem  them  from  death :  O  death,  I  will  be  thy  plagues  !  O 
grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction."  —  Rosea  13  :  14. 

"  It  is  sent  to  release  you  from  a  body  of  sin  and  death,  to 
take  you  from  a  world  of  trial  and  sorrow,  and  to  place  you 
within  the  walls  of  the  city  after  which  you  have  been  so  long 
aspiring,  that  there  you  may  be  clothed  with  immortality,  and 


84  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

see  him  whom,  having  not  seen,  you  love.     Why,  then,  be- 
liever, should  you  start  or  shrink  when  the  summons  comes  ?" 

Why  should  we  start,  and  fear  to  die  ? 

What  timorous  worms  we  mortals  are  ! 
Death  is  the  gate  of  endless  joy, 

And  yet  we  dread  to  enter  there. 

The  pains,  the  groans,  and  dying  strife 
Fright  our  approaching  souls  away  ; 

We  still  shrink  back  again  to  life, 
Fond  of  our  prison  and  our  clay, 

Oh  !  if  my  Lord  would  come  and  meet, 
My  soul  should  stretch  her  wings  in  haste, 

Fly  fearless  through  death's  iron  gate, 
Nor  feel  the  terrors  as  she  passed  ! 

Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 

Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are, 
While  on  his  breast  I  lean  my  head, 

And  breathe  my  life  out  sweetly  there  ! 


"  Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble,  I  will  deliver  thee, 
and  thou  shalt  glorify  me."  —  Ps.  50  :  15. 

"  The  unchangeableness  of  God's  love  to  his  people  gives 

confidence  that  they  shall  in  no  wise  be  cast  out.     They  know 

Christ  will  be  the  same  to  them  at  last  as  he  was  as  first ;  the 

same  in  the  pangs  of  death  as  in  the  comforts  of  life  ;  '  having 

loved  his  own,  he  loved  them  unto  the  end.'  " 

God  of  my  life  !  to  thee  I  call ; 
Afflicted,  at  thy  feet  I  fall  ; 
When  high  the  water-floods  prevail, 
Leave  not  my  trembling  heart  to  fail. 


HYMXS   FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM.  85 

Friend  of  the  friendless  and  the  faint, 
Where  should  I  lodge  my  deep  complaint-?" 
Where  but  with  thee,  whose  open  door 
Invites  the  helpless  and  the  poor  ? 

Did  ever  mourner  plead  with  thee, 
And  thou  refuse  that  mourner's  plea  ? 
-Doth  not  the  word  still  fixed  remain, 
That  none  shall  seek  thy  face  in  vain  ? 

That  were  a  grief  I  could  not  bear, 
Didst  thou  not  hear  and  answer  prayer  ; 
But  a  prayer-hearing,  answering  God, 
Supports  me  under  every  load. 

Fair  is  the  lot  that's  cast  for  me, 
I  have  an  advocate  with  thee ; 
They  whom  the  world  caresses  most 
Have  no  such  privilege  to  boast. 

Poor  though  I  am,  despised,  forgot, 
Yet  God,  my  God,  forgets  me  not ; 
And  he  is  safe,  and  must  succeed, 
For  whom  the  Lord  vouchsafes  to  plead. 


"  Thy  will  be  done   on   earth  as    it  is   in  heaven."—  Matt 
6  :  10. 

"Who  would  exercise  the  fearful  privilege  of  ordering  a 

single  event  which  is  to  affect  him  ?     And  shall  we  contend  for 

a  privilege  which  we  would  not  exercise  if  we  had  it  ?     Shall 

we  claim  to  choose  in  a  case  in  which,  if  the  right  of  choice 

were  given  us,  we  should  immediately  give  it  back  into  the 

hands  of  God  ?" 

Thy  will  be  done  !  in  devious  way 
The  hurrying  stream  of  life  may  run ; 


86  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Yet  still  our  grateful  hearts  shall  say, 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

Thy  will  be  done  !     If  o'er  us  shine 

A  gladdening  and  a  prosperous  sun, 
This  prayer  will  make  it  more  divine — 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

Thy  will  be  done  !     Though  shrouded  o'er 
Our  path  with  gloom,  one  comfort — one 
Is  ours — to  breathe,  while  we  adore, 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 


'*  I  heard   a  voice  from   heaven    saying   unto    me,    "Write, 
Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord."— Rev.  14  :  13. 

"  Oh  !    trust  him,   then,  and  be  not  afraid  ;    his  love  has 

brought  thee  thus  far ;  he  has  led  thee  in  the  right  way  to  the 

verge  of  life,  and  he  declares  that  he  will  not  leave  thee  nor 

forsake  thee  in  the  hour  of  death.     Fear  not  to  look  down,  fear 

not  to  go  down  with  Jesus  into  the  grave.     He  has  promised, 

1 1  will  be  with  thee.'  " 

Happy  soul,  thy  days  are  ended, 

All  thy  mourning  days  below  : 
Go,  by  angel  guards  attended, 

To  the  sight  of  Jesus  go  ! 
Waiting  to  receive  thy  spirit, 

Lo  !  the  Saviour  stands  above, 
Shows  the  purchase  of  his  merit, 

Reaches  out  the  crown  of  love. 

Struggle  through  thy  latest  passion 
To  thy  dear  Redeemer's  breast, 

To  his  uttermost  salvation, 
To  his  everlasting  rest  : 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  87 

For  the  joys  he  sets  before  thee, 

Bear  a  momentary  pain  ; 
Die,  to  live  the  life  of  glory, 

Suffer,  with  thy  Lord  to  reign 


"The  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof."  —  Rev.  21  :  23. 
"  Let  us  who  are  here  cut  off  from  ordinances  take  comfort. 
Christ  can  come  to  us  without  need  of  these  channels,  though 
to  others  the  appointed  means  of  grace  ;  and  when  he  himself 
hath  laid  us  aside  from  them,  he  can,  while  alluring  us  into 
the  wilderness,  there  speak  comfortably  unto  us." 

Thou  only  centre  of  my  rest, 

Look  down  with  pitying  eye, 
While  with  protracted  pain  opprest 

I  breathe  the  plaintive  sigh. 

Thy  gracious  presence,  O  my  God  ! 

My  every  wish  contains  ; 
With  this,  beneath  affliction's  load, 

My  heart  no  more  complains. 

This  can  my  every  care  control, 
Gild  each  dark  scene  with  light, 

This  is  the  sunshine  of  the  soul, 
Without  it  all  is  night. 

My  Lord,  my  life,  oh  !  cheer  my  heart 

With  thy  reviving  ray, 
And  bid  these  mournful  shades  depart, 

And  bring  the  dawn  of  day  ! 

Oh  !  happy  scenes  of  pure  delight  I 
Where  thy  full  beams  impart 


88  HYMNS   FOR   THE  SICK-ROOM. 

Unclouded  beauty  to  the  sight, 
And  rapture  to  the  heart. 

Her  part  in  those  fair  realms  of  bliss, 
My  spirit  longs  to  know  ; 

My  wishes  terminate  in  this,  • 
Nor  can  they  rest  below. 

Lord,  shall  the  breathings  of  my  heart 

Aspire  in  vain  to  thee  ? 
Confirm  my  hope,  that  where  thou  art, 

I  shall  forever  be. 

Then  shall  my  cheerful  spirit  sing 
The  darksome  hours  away, 

And  rise  on  faith's  expanded  wing 
To  everlasting  day. 


"  "Whether  we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord ;  and  whether 
we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord :  whether  we  live  therefore,  or 
die,  we  are  the  Lord's."  —  Bom.  14  :  8. 

"  When  soul  and  body  part,  my  spirit  will  be  a  stranger  in 
the  wondrous  path  that  conducts  the  righteous  to  the  presence 
of  their  God,  but  Jesus  knows  the  way,  and  I  am  his." 

Deathless  principle,  arise ! 
Soar,  thou  native  of  the  skies  ! 
Pearl  of  price,  by  Jesus  bought, 
To  his  glorious  likeness  wrought, 
Go,  to  shine  before  his  throne, 
Deck  his  mediatorial  crown ; 
Go,  his  triumphs  to  adorn ; 
Born  of  God  to  God  return. 

Lo  !  he  beckons  from  on  high  ! 
Fearless  to  his  presence  fly ; 


HYMXS  FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM.  89 

Thine  the  merit  of  his  blood, 
Thine  the  righteousness  of  God ! 
Angels,  joyful  to  attend, 
Hovering  round  thy  pillow  bend  5 
Wait  to  catch  the  signal  given, 
And  escort  thee  quick  to  heaven. 

Is  thy  earthly  house  distressed, 
Willing  to  retain  its  guest  ? 
'Tis  not  thou,  but  it  must  die — 
Fly,  celestial  tenant,  fly ! 
Burst  thy  shackles,  drop  thy  clay, 
Sweetly  breathe  thyself  away ; 
Singing,  to  thy  crown  remove, 
Swift  of  wing,  and  fired  with  love. 

Shudder  not  to  pass  the  stream, 
Venture  all  thy  care  on  him ; 
Him,  whose  dying  love  and  power 
Stilled  its  tossing,  hushed  its  roar  : 
Safe  as  the  expanded  wave, 
Gentle  as  the  summer's  eve  ; 
Xot  one  object  of  his  care 
Ever  suffered  shipwreck  there  ! 


See  the  haven  full  in  view, 

Love  divine  shall  bear  thee  through  ; 

Trust  to  that  propitious  gale, 

Weigh  thy  anchor,  spread  thy  sail ! 

Saints  in  glory  perfect  made, 

Wait  thy  passage  through  the  shade ! 

Ardent  for  thy  coming  o'er, 

See  thev  throng  the  blissful  shore  ! 


90  HYMNS   FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM. 

Mount,  their  transports  to  improve, 
Join  the  longing  choir  above, 
Swiftly  to  their  wish  be  given, 
Kindle  higher  joy  in  heaven ! 
Such  the  prospects  that  arise 
To  the  dying  Christian's  eyes  ! 
Such  the  glorious  vista,  Faith 
Opens  through  the  shades  of  death ! 


"  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  ot 
death,  I  will  fear  no  evil."— Ps.  23  :  4. 

"  He  does  not  say,  *  I  will  feel  no  evil,'  but,  '  I  will  fear  no 
evil.'  He  knows  that  trials  await  him,  and  that  flesh  and 
blood  must  feel  them.  He  fosters  not  any  false  courage  by  a 
vain  concealment  of  the  truth.  He  never  deludes  himself  with 
the  idea  that  there  are  no  difficulties,  no  terrors  in  the  valley. 
'But  thou  art  with  me,'  this  is  enough  for  all." 

My  God,  the  spring  of  all  my  joys, 

The  life  of  my  delights, 
The  glory  of  my  brightest  days, 

And  comfort  of  my  nights  ! 

In  darkest  shades,  if  he  appear, 

My  dawning  is  begun  ; 
He  is  my  soul's  bright  morning  star, 

And  he  my  rising  sun. 

The  opening  heavens  around  me  shine 

With  beams  of  sacred  bliss, 
While  Jesus  shows  his  love  is  mine, 

And  whispers,  I  am  his. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  91 

My  soul  would  leave  this  heavy  clay, 

At  that  transporting  word, 
And  run  with  joy  the  shining  way, 

To  meet  my  gracious  Lord. 

Fearless  of  hell  and  ghastly  death, 

I  break  through  every  foe  : 
The  wings  of  love  and  arms  of  faith 

Shall  bear  me  conqu'ror  through. 


"O  death!  where  is  thy  sting?"— 1  Cor.  15  :  55. 

"  It  is  when  the  minor  lights  of  comfort  are  extinguished 
that  the  sun  of  righteousness  shines  forth  and  more  than  com- 
pensates for  them  all." 

Oh  !  for  an  overcoming  faith 

To  cheer  my  dying  hours  ! 
To  triumph  o'er  the  monster  death, 

And  all  his  frightful  powers. 

Joyful,  with  all  the  strength  I  have 
My  quiv'ring  lips  should  sing, 
"  Where  is  thy  boasted  vict'ry,  grave  ? 
And  where  the  monster's  sting  ?" 

If  sin  be  pardoned,  I'm  secure  ; 

Death  hath  no  sting  beside  : 
The  law  gives  sin  its  damning  power, 

But  Christ,  my  ransom,  died. 

Now  to  the  God  of  victory 

Immortal  thanks  be  paid, 
Who  makes  us  conqu'rors  while  we  die, 

Through  Christ,  our  living  Head  1 


92  HYMXS   FOR  THE   SICK-K003I. 


"  God  commendeth  his  love  toward  us  ;  in  that  while  we 
were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us."— Rom.  5  :  8. 

"Many  waters  can  not  quench  it,  neither  can  the  floods 
drown  it.  Here  is  love  stronger  than  death.  Oh  !  the  heighth, 
oh  !  the  depth  of  this  love  ;  there  are  such  dimensions  in  this 
love  of  Christ  as  the  longest  line  of  our  most  extended  thoughts 
and  imaginations  can  never  be  able  to  reach  and  measure." 

There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood 

Drawn  from  Emmanuel's  veins  ; 
And  sinners  plunged  beneath  that  flood 

Lose  all  their  guilty  stains. 

The  dying  thief  rejoiced  to  see 

That  fountain  in  his  day  ; 
And  there  may  I,  though  vile  as  he, 

Wash  all  my  sins  away. 

Dear  dying  Lamb,  thy  precious  blood 

Shall  never  lose  its  power, 
Till  all  the  ransomed  Church  of  God 

Be  saved,  to  sin  no  more. 

E'er  since,  by  faith,  I  saw  the  stream 

Thy  flowing  wounds  supply, 
Redeeming  love  hath  been  my  theme,  • 

And  shall  be  till  I  die. 

Then  in  a  nobler,  sweeter  song 

I'll  sing  thy  power  to  save  ; 
When  this  poor  lisping,  stamm'ring  tongue 

Lies  silent  in  the  grave. 

Lord,  I  believe  thou  hast  prepared 
(Unworthy  though  I  be) 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  93 

For  me  a  blood-bought,  free  reward, . 
A  golden  harp  for  me. 

'Tis  strung,  and  tuned  for  endless  years, 

And  formed  by  power  divine, 
To  sound  in  God  the  Father's  ears 

No  other  name  but  thine. 


"  Cast  not    away,    therefore,    your    confidence  which    hath 
great  recompense  of  reward."  —  Heb.  10  :  35. 

"Blessed  be  God,  the  believer  in  Jesus  does  not  sorrow 
as  those  without  hope.  Soon  will  sorrow  be  exchanged  for 
unclouded  bliss  ;  soon  shall  we  join  the  company  of  those  who 
have  reached  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  join  our  voices  with 
those  loved  ones  who  have  gone  before  us,  and  with  them  take 
up  the  notes  of  eternal  praise  to  him  who  loved  us  and 
washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood.  Yet  a  little  while, 
and  He  that  shall  come  will  come  and  not  tarry.  Indeed,  these 
are  words  of  comfort  with  which  to  cheer  one  another  as  we 
journey  through  this  lonely  wilderness.  Some  are  called  to 
pass  through  deeper  waters,  and  to  drink  a  larger  measure  of 
the  cup  of  sorrow.  But  how  precious  to  them  is  He  who 
bears  them  up  ;  how  deep  is  the  joy  that  succeeds  the  night 
of  weeping !" 

O  thou !  to  whose  all-searching  sight 
The  darkness  shineth  as  the  light, 
Search,  prove  my  heart,  it  pants  for  thee ; 
Oh  !  burst  these  bonds,  and  set  it  free. 

Wash  out  its  stains,  refine  its  dross  ; 
Nail  my  affections  to  the  cross  ; 
Hallow  each  thought ;  let  all  within 
Be  clean  as  thou,  my  Lord,  art  clean. 


94  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

As  through  this  wilderness  I  stray, 
Be  thou  my  light,  be  thou  my  way ; 
No  foes,  no  evil,  need  I  fear, 
If  thou,  my  Lord,  my  God,  art  near. 

When  rising  floods  my  soul  o'erflow, 
When  sinks  my  strength  in  waves  of  woe, 
Saviour,  thy  timely  aid  impart, 
And  raise  my  head  and  cheer  my  heart. 

Teach  me,  where'er  thy  steps  I  see, 
Dauntless,  untired,  to  folio w  thee ; 
Oil !  let  thy  hand  support  me  still, 
And  lead  me  to  thy  holy  hill. 

If  rough  and  thorny  be  the  way, 
My  strength  proportion  to  my  day  ; 
Till  toil,  and  grief,  and  pain  shall  cease, 
Where  all  is  calm,  and  joy,  and  peace. 


"  Cast  me  not  off  in  the  time  of  old  age."  —  Ps.  71  :  3. 

PRAYER    FOR    AN    AGED     PERSON     LEFT 
SOLITARY    AND   IN    SICKNESS. 

God  of  all  consolation  and  grace,  how  blessed  is  the 
assurance,  that  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  thou, 
the  Lord,  pitiest  them  that  fear  thee  ;  for  thou  knowest 
our  frame  ;  thou  rememberest  that  we  are  dust. 

At  this  time,  how  lonely  and  miserable  should  I  feel, 
but  for  the  consolations  of  thy  holy  word  !  for  now  the 
years  are  come  when,  with  regard  to  the  world,  its  oc- 
cupations and  pursuits,  I  have  to  say,  that  I  have  no 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  95 

pleasure  in  them ;  and  few  and  evil  must  now  be  the 
days  of  my  pilgrimage  upon  earth.  For  my  tabernacle 
is  spoiled,  and  my  cords  are  broken ;  I  am  made  to 
possess  months  of  vanity,  and  wearisome  nights  are  ap- 
pointed unto  me.  When  I  lie  down  I  say,  "  When 
shall  I  arise,  and  the  night  be  gone  ?"  and  I  am  full  of 
tossiugs  to  and  fro  till  the  dawning  of  the  day.  But 
thou  art  the  Lord,  that  changest  not ;  thy  mercy  en- 
dureth  forever,  and  thy  compassions  never  fail.  There- 
fore, when  my  heart  fainteth  within  me,  will  I  remem- 
ber thee,  O  my  God !  for  thou  art  the  strength  of  my 
heart,  and  my  portion  forever.  Let  not  my  heart  be 
troubled  by  these  light  afflictions,  which  are  but  for  a 
moment,  but  believing  in  Jesus  as  my  compassionate 
High  Priest,  who  can  be  touched  with  a  feeling  of  all 
my  infirmities  ;  as  the  Lord  my  righteousness,  who  hath 
fulfilled  all  righteousness  in  my  stead,  that  I  might  be 
justified  freely  by  his  grace  ;  as  my  all-prevailing  advo- 
cate with  thee,  the  Father,  who  ever  liveth  to  make  in- 
tercession for  me ;  as  my  Redeemer,  upon  whom  the 
chastisement  of  my  peace  was  laid,  and  who  has  taken 
away  all  mine  iniquity,  and  reconciled  me  to  thee 
through  the  blood  of  his  cross  ;  as  my  blessed  Physi- 
cian, whose  name  is  a  balm  for  every  wound,  a  cure  for 
every  wo  ;  believing  in  him,  and  knowing  him  as  all  my 
salvation  and  all  my  desire  ;  and  laying  hold  by  faith  on 
thy  precious  promises,  addressed  to  me  through  him, 
may  I  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory. 

And  though  the  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  must 
be  dissolved,  and  I  know  that  thou  wilt  bring  me  to 
death,  and  to  the  house  appointed  for  all  living — though 
ere  long  the  dust  shall  return  to  the  dust  as  it  was — yet 


96  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

will  I  resign  my  spirit  without  fear  into  the  hands  of  God, 
who  gave  it.  For  blessed  be  thou,  O  God,  and  Father 
of  my  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  according  to  thine  abun- 
dant mercy,  hast  begotten  me  again  to  a  lively  hope, 
by  the  resurrection  of  thy  dear  Son  from  the  dead,  even 
to  the  hope  that,  though  after  my  skin  worms  destroy 
this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God  —  see  the 
King  in  his  beauty,  and  the  land  that  is  very  far  off. 

Oh !  do  thou  seal  me  with  the  Holy  Spirit  of  pro- 
mise, which  is  the  earnest  of  my  future  inheritance. 
May  he,  the  Comforter,  bring  the  truths  of  thy  blessed 
word  seasonably  to  my  remembrance,  and  apply  them 
savingly  to  my  soul,  that  this  may  be  my  comfort  in 
mine  affliction,  while  the  days  of  trial  last.  For  hast 
thou  not  promised  to  strengthen  me  upon  the  bed  of 
languishing,  and  to  make  all  my  bed  in  my  sickness  ? 
Hast  thou  not  said  :  "  Even  to  old  age  I  am  he,  and 
even  to  hoary  hairs  will  I  carry  you.  I  have  made  and 
I  will  bear,  even  I  will  carry  and  will  deliver  you.  For 
the  mountains  shall  depart,  and  the  hills  be  removed, 
but  my  kindness  shall  not  depart  from  you,  neither 
shall  the  covenant  of  my  peace  be  removed,  saith  the 
Lord,  that  hath  mercy  on  thee.  Lo,  I  am  with  you 
alway,  even  to  the  end  of  the  world.  For  I  know  the 
thoughts  that  I  think  toward  you — thoughts  of  peace, 
and  not  of  evil ;  that  I  may  give  you  an  expected  end." 

Lord,  may  my  latter  end  indeed  be  peace.  At  even- 
ing-time let  there  be  light.  When  the  shades  of  that 
night  are  fast  closing  around  me,  in  which  no  man  can 
work,  do  thou,  O  Son  of  righteousness,  shine  into  my 
heart  as  mine  everlasting  light.  Then,  though  called  to 
walk  through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  97 

I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for  if  thou  art  with  me,  thy  rod  and 
thy  staff  shall  comfort  and  support  me. 

Lord,  all  my  desire  is  before  thee.  In  mercy  hear 
and  answer.  And  to  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  be 
all  praise  and  glory  forever  and  ever  !     Amen  ! 

With  years  oppressed,  with  sorrows  torn, 
Dejected,  harassed,  sick,  forlorn, 

To  thee,  O  God,  I  pray : 
To  thee  these  withered  hands  arise, 
To  thee  I  lift  these  failing  eyes, 

Oh  !  cast  me  not  away  ! 

Thy  mercy  heard  my  infant  prayer, 
Thy  love,  with  all  a  mother's  care, 

Sustained  my  childish  days  : 
Thy  goodness  watched  my  ripening  youth, 
And  formed  my  heart  to  love  thy  truth, 

And  filled  my  lips  with  praise. 

O  Saviour  !  has  thy  grace  declined  ? 
Can  years  affect  th'  Eternal  mind, 

Or  time  its  love  decay  ? 
A  thousand  ages  pass  thy  sight, 
And  all  their  long  and  weary  flight 

Is  gone  like  yesterday. 

Then,  e'en  in  age  and  grief  thy  name 
Shall  still  my  languid  heart  inflame, 

And  bow  my  faltering  knee  : 
Oh  !  yet  this  bosom  feels  the  fire  ; 
This  trembling  hand  and  drooping  lyre 

Have  vet  a  strain  for  thee  ! 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Yes  !  timeless,  broken,  still,  O  Lord, 
This  voice,  transported,  shall  record 

Thy  goodness,  tried  so  long  : 
Till,  sinking  slow,  with  calm  decay, 
In  feeble  numbers  melt  away 

Into  a  seraph's  song. 


"If  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you,  I  will  come  again 
and  receive  you  unto  myself,  that  where  I  am,  there  ye  may 
be  also."  —  John  14  :  3. 

"  Of  those  who  sleep  in  Jesus  it  is  said,  Blessed  are  those 
who  die  in  the  Lord.  Oh  !  happy  they  who  thus  rest  in  the 
presence  of  their  God.  They  have  done  with  sorrow,  done 
with  pain,  done  with  sickness,  with  wearisome  nights  and 
sighing  days.  There  but  remaineth  for  them  the  fullness  of 
joy  at  the  Father's  right  hand  for  evermore." 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  blessed  sleep  ! 
From  which  none  ever  wakes  to  weep : 
A  calm  and  undisturbed  repose, 
Unbroken  by  the  last  of  foes  ! 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  oh !  how  sweet, 
To  be  for  such  a  slumber  meet  ! 
With  holy  confidence  to  sing, 
That  death  hath  lost  his  venomed  sting  ! 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  peaceful  rest, 
Whose  waking  is  supremely  blest ; 
No  fear  nor  wo  shall  dim  that  hour, 
That  manifests  the  Saviour's  power. 


HYMNS  FOR   THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  oh  !  for  me 
May  such  a  blissful  refuge  be  : 
Securely  shall  my  ashes  lie, 
Waiting  the  summons  from  on  high ! 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  time  nor  space 
Debars  this  precious  "  hiding-place  :" 
On  Indian  plains,  or  Lapland  snows, 
Believers  find  the  same  repose. 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  far  from  thee 
Thy  kindred,  and  their  graves  may  be  ; 
But  thine  is  still  a  blessed  sleep, 
From  which  none  ever  wake  to  weep  ! 


"  It  is  the  Lord,  let  him  do  what  seemeth  him  good."  —  2 
Sam.  3  :  18. 

"  God  has  particular  lessons  to  give,  and  particular  ends  to 
answer,  when  he  calls  away  one  of  his  servants  in  the  midst  of 
his  strength,  and  with  every  indication  of  triumph,  and  when 
he  leaves  another  to  spend  not  only  years  in  labor,  but  months, 
and  even  years,  in  the  solitariness  of  his  chamber,  a  prisoner 
on  his  couch." 

For  us,  the  conflict  and  the  toil, 

The  sickness,  and  the  pain  ; 
For  them,  the  wiping  of  the  tears 

Which  shall  not  flow  again. 
For  us,  the  path  o'ergrown  with  thorns, 

And  darkness  round  our  way ; 
For  them,  the  golden  street  of  heaven 

And  God's  eternal  day  ! 


100  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

How  long,  O  Lord  of  love  !  how  long 

Shall  we  go  mourning  here  ? 
How  long  till  in  thy  courts  above, 

With  singing  we  appear  ? 
"We  see  thy  saints  to  glory  go, 

And  trim  our  lamps  anew  ; 
When  shall  we  hear  the  bridegroom's  voice, 

And  we  be  summoned  too  ! 

O  longing  heart !  O  aching  head  ! 

Our  times  are  in  his  hand  ; 
And  not  a  drop  is  in  the  cup 

Unmeasured  by  his  hand. 
And  though  the  bitterness  be  great, 

Yet  deeper  was  the  draught, 
Which  in  his  hour  of  agony, 

Our  great  Redeemer  quaffed. 

Though  long  delayed  our  time  of  rest, 

And  o'er  the  waters  wild, 
Like  Noah's  dove,  we  have  been  sent, 

Our  rest  below  denied  ; 
Yet  soon  our  exile  shall  be  o'er, 

His  time  of  love  shall  come  ; 
When  he  shall  open  wide  the  door, 

And  take  the  wanderer  home. 


"  For  here  have  we  no  continuing  city,  but  we  seek  one 
to  come."  —  Heb.  13  :  14. 

"  Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwelling-place  in  all  genera- 
tions." —  Ps.  90  :  1. 

"  Happy  is  the  man  who  has  placed  himself  in  the  care  of 
a  covenant  God,  and  knows  that  wherever  his  abode  may  be. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  101 

and  whatever  its  form  and  materials,  he  dwells  in  the  secret 
place  of  the  Most  High,  and  abides  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty,  and  that  when  the  earthly  tabernacle  falls,  an  eter- 
nal mansion  awaits  him  on  high." 

"  We've  no  abiding  city  here  :" 

This  may  distress  the  worldling's  mind  ; 
But  should  not  cost  the  saint  a  tear, 
Who  hopes  a  better  rest  to  find, 

"  We've  no  abiding  city  here  :" 

Sad  truth,  were  this  to  be  our  home ; 
But  let  this  thought  our  spirits  cheer, 
"  We  seek  a  city  yet  to  come." 

M  We've  no  abiding  city  here  :" 

Then  let  us  walk  as  pilgrims  do  ; 
Let  not  the  world  our  rest  appear, 
But  let  us  live  wTith  heaven  in  view. 

"  We've  no  abiding  city  here  :" 
We  seek  a  city  out  of  sight ; 
Zion  its  name — the  Lord  is  there, 
It  shines  with  everlasting  light. 

O  sweet  abode  of  peace  and  love, 

Where  pilgrims  freed  from  toil  are  blest ! 

Had  I  the  pinions  of  the  dove, 
I'd  fly  to  thee,  and  be  at  rest. 

But  hush,  my  soul  !  nor  dare  repine  ; 

The  time  my  God  appoints  is  best : 
While  here,  to  do  his  will  be  mine, 

And  his  to  fix  my  time  of  rest. 


102  HYMNS  FOR  THE    SICK-ROOM. 


"  And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes  ;  and 
there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying, 
neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain  ;  for  the  former  things 
are  passed  away."  —  Kev.  21  :  4. 

"  God  our  Lord  wipes  off  the  tears.  It  is  not  time  that  heals 
the  sorrows  of  the  saints,  or  dries  up  their  tears.  It  is  God, 
God  himself,  God  alone.  He  reserves  this  joy  for  himself,  as 
if  it  were  his  special  joy." 

I'm  but  a  stranger  here, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 
Earth  is  a  desert  drear, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 
Danger  and  sorrow  stand 
Round  me  on  every  hand, 
Heaven  is  my  father-land, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 

What  though  the  tempest  rage, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 
Short  is  my  pilgrimage  ; 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 
And  time's  wild,  wintry  blast, 
Soon  will  be  overpast ; 
I  shall  reach  home  at  last, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 

Therefore,  I  murmur  not, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 
What  e'er  my  earthly  lot, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 
And  I  shall  surely  stand, 
There  at  my  Lord's  right  hand  : 
Heaven  is  my  father-land, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ! 


HYMN'S   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  103 


"  He  that  trusteth  in  the   Lord,  mercy  shall  compass  him 
about."  — Ps.  32  :  10. 

"  Love  has  appeared  through  the  disguise  of  every  frown  ; 
its  beams  have  glimmered  through  the  darkest  night ;  by  every 
affliction  thou  hast  been  drawing  me  nearer  to  thyself,  and  re- 
moving my  carnal  props,  that  I  may  lean  with  more  assurance 
on  the  eternal  Rock.  '  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul !  and  forget 
not  all  his  benefits.'  " 

God,  my  supporter  and  my  hope, 

My  help  forever  near, 
Thine  arm  of  mercy  held  me  up, 

When  sinking  in  despair. 

Thy  counsels,  Lord,  shall  guide  my  feet 
Through  this  dark  wilderness  : 

Thy  hand  conduct  me  near  thy  seat, 
To  dwell  before  thy  face. 

Were  I  in  heaven  without  my  God, 

'T  would  be  no  joy  to  me  ; 
And  while  this  earth  is  my  abode, 

I  long  for  none  but  thee. 

What  if  the  springs  of  life  were  broke, 
And  fiesh  and  heart  should  faint  ? 

God  is  my  soul's  eternal  rock, 
The  strength  of  every  saint. 

Then,  to  draw  near  to  thee,  my  God, 

Shall  be  my  sweet  employ  : 
My  tongue  shall  sound  thy  works  abroad, 

And  tell  the  world  my  joy. 


104  HYMNS  FOR   THE   SICK-BOOM. 


"My  flesh  also  shall  rest  in  hope."  —  Ps.  16:9. 

"  When  the  gracious  soul  comes  near  its  God,  (as  it  doth 
in  a  dying  hour,)  '  then  it  even  throws  itself  into  his  arms,'  as 
a  river  that,  after  many  turnings  and  windings,  pours  itself 
into  the  ocean.  Nothing  but  God  can  please  it  in  this  world, 
and  nothing  but  God  can  satisfy  it  when  it  goes  hence." 

Rest  for  the  toiling  hand, 

Rest  for  the  anxious  brow, 
Rest  for  the  weary,  way-worn  feet, 

Rest  from  all  labor  now  ; 

Rest  for  the  fevered  brain, 

Rest  for  the  throbbing  eye  ; 
Through  these  parched  lips  of  thine  no  more 

Shall  pass  the  moan  or  sigh. 

Soon  shall  the  trump  of  God 

Give  out  the  welcome  sound, 
That  shakes  thy  silent  chamber- walls, 

And  breaks  the  turf-sealed  ground. 

Ye  dwellers  in  the  dust, 

Awake  !  come  forth  and  sing  : 
Sharp  has  your  frost  of  winter  been, 

But  bright  shall  be  your  spring. 

'T  was  sown  in  weakness  here  ; 

'T  will  then  be  raised  in  power  : 
That  which  was  sown  an  earthly  seed, 

Shall  rise  a  heavenly  flower  ! 


HYMN'S   FOE  THE   SICK-ROOM.  105 


M  "Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain."  —  Rev.  5  :  12 . 

11  It  will  not  be  from  an  angel's  lips  that  this  anthem  will 
issue.  The  angel  never  knew  the  wretchedness  of  being  a  fall- 
en creature,  and  therefore  can  not  know  the  thankfulness  of  a 
redeemed." 

Awake,  and  sing  the  song 

Of  Moses  and  the  Lamb  ; 
Wake  every  heart,  and  every  tongue, 
To  praise  the  Saviour's  name. 

Sing  of  his  dying  love  ; 

Sing  of  his  rising  power  ; 
Sing  how  he  intercedes,  above, 

For  us,  whose  sins  he  bore. 

Sing,  till  we  feel  our  heart 

Ascending  with  our  tongue ; 
Sing,  till  the  love  of  sin  depart, 

And  grace  inspire  our  song. 

Sing  on  your  heavenly  way, 

Ye  ransomed  sinners,  sing  ; 
Sing  on,  rejoicing  every  day 

In  Christ,  th'  eternal  King. 

Soon  shall  we  hear  him  say, 

"  Ye  blessed  children,  come  !" 
Soon  will  he  call  us  hence  away, 

To  our  eternal  home. 


There  shall  our  raptured  tongue 
His  endless  praise  proclaim, 

And  sweeter  voices  tune  the  song 
Of  Moses  and  the  Lamb. 
5* 


106  HYMXS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory."  — 1  Cor.  15  :  53. 

"Victory  was  our  watchword  in  the  conflict,  even  the  hard- 
est and  sorest ;  victory  was  our  watchword  on  the  bed  of 
death,  in  the  dark  valley,  when  going  down  for  a  season  into 
the  tomb ;  victory  is  to  be  our  final  watchword,  when,  re- 
appearing from  the  grave  leaving  mortality  behind  us,  and 
ascending  into  glory." 

Hope  of  our  hearts,  O  Lord !  appear, 

Thou  glorious  Star  of  day  ! 
Shine  forth,  and  chase  the  dreary  night, 

With  all  our  tears,  away. 

Strangers  on  earth,  we  wait  for  thee  ; 

Oh  !  leave  the  Father's  throne  ; 
Corne  with  a  shout  of  victory,  Lord, 

And  claim  us  as  thine  own ! 

Oh !  bid  the  bright  archangel  then 

The  trump  of  God  prepare, 
To  call  thy  saints,  the  quick,  the  dead, 

To  meet  thee  in  the  air  ! 

No  resting-place  we  seek  on  earth, 

No  loveliness  we  see  ; 
Our  eye  is  on  the  royal  crown 

Prepared  for  us  and  thee. 

But,  dearest  Lord,  however  bright 

That  crown  of  joy  above, 
What  is  it  to  the  brighter  hope 

Of  dwelling  in  thy  love  ? 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  107 

What  to  the  joy,  the  deeper  joy, 

Unmingled,  pure,  and  free, 
Of  union  with  our  living  Head, 

Of  fellowship  with  thee  ? 

This  joy  e'en  now  on  earth  is  ours  ; 

But  only  Lord,  above, 
Our  heart  without  a  pang  shall  know 

The  fullness  of  thy  love. 

There,  near  thy  heart,  upon  the  throne, 

Thy  ransomed  bride  shall  see 
What  grace  was  in  the  bleeding  Lamb 

Who  died  to  make  her  free. 


"  For  he  knoweth  our  frame ;  he  remembereth  that  we  are 
dust."  — Ps.  103  :  14. 

"  You  may  cast  all  your  cares  on  Christ,  for  he  careth  for 
you.  All  through  this  vale  of  tears  you  may  rest  assured  of 
his  sympathy ;  and  when  the  vale  of  tears  declines  into  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  not  his  sympathy  only  will  you 
have,  but  his  inspiriting  presence,  and  his  timely  succor." 

Fountain  of  grace,  rich,  full,  and  free, 
¥»7hat  need  I,  that  is  not  in  thee  ? 
Full  pardon,  strength  to  meet  the  day, 
And  peace  which  none  can  take  away. 

Doth  sickness  fill  my  heart  with  fear, 
'Tis  sweet  to  know  that  thou  art  near ; 
Am  I  with  dread  of  justice  tried, 
'Tis  sweet  to  know  that  Christ  hath  died. 


108  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

In  life,  thy  promises  of  aid, 
Forbid  my  heart  to  be  afraid ; 
In  death,  peace  gently  veils  the  eyes — 
Christ  rose,  and  I  shall  surely  rise. 

O  all-sufficient  Saviour  !  be 

This  all-sufficiency  to  me  ; 

Nor  pain,  nor  sin,  nor  death  can  harm 

The  weakest  shielded  by  thine  arm. 


**  And  if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you,  I  will  come 
again,  and  receive  you  unto  myself;  that  where  I  am,  there 
ye  may  be  also."  —  John  14  :  3. 

"  If  the  sheep  are  with  the  Shepherd,  if  the  members  are 
with  the  Head,  if  the  children  of  Christ's  family  are  with  him 
who  loved  them  and  carried  them  all  the  days  of  their  pilgrim- 
age on  earth,  all  must  be  well." 

Let  me  be  with  thee  where  thou  art, 

My  Saviour,  my  eternal  rest ; 
Then  only  will  this  longing  heart 

Be  fully  and  forever  blest. 

Let  me  be  with  thee  where  thou  art, 

Thy  unveiled  glory  to  behold  ; 
Then  only  will  this  wandering  heart 

Cease  to  be  false  to  thee  and  cold. 

Let  me  be  with  thee  where  thou  art, 
"Where  spotless  saints  thy  name  adore, 

Then  only  will  this  sinful  heart 
Be  evil  and  defiled  no  more. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  109 

Let  me  be  with  thee  where  thou  art, 

Where  none  can  die,  where  none  remove  ; 

There  neither  death  nor  life  will  part 
Me  from  thy  presence  and  thy  love. 


"  They  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness,  and  sorrow  and  sigh- 
ing shall  flee  away."  — Isa.  35  :  10. 

"  The  Christian  hastening  to  heaven  sees  no  more  of  that 
happy  home  than  he  did  when  entering  his  course,  yet  he  is 
nearer  every  hour.  He  is  drawing  apace  to  the  harbor  though 
he  sees  it  not,  and  in  a  little  while  he  will  enter  there.  '  Sor- 
row shall  be  turned  into  joy.'  " 

Every  moment  brings  me  nearer 
To  my  long-sought  rest  above  ; 
Higher  mounts  my  soul,  and  higher, 
Oh  !  how  happy  to  remove  ; 
Then  forever, 
I  shall  sing  redeeming  love. 

Soon  shall  I  be  gone  to  glory, 
Join  the  bright  angelic  race, 
There  repeat  the  pleasing  story — 
I  was  saved  by  sovereign  grace : 
And  forever 
Yiew  my  loving  Saviour's  face. 

Though  my  burden  sore  oppress  me, 
And  I  shrink  beneath  my  pain  ; 
Jesus,  he  will  soon  release  me, 
And  your  loss  will  be  my  gain ; 
Precious  Saviour  ! 
With  my  Lord  I  shall  remain. 


110  HYMNB  FOE  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"Because  I  live  ye  shall  live  also."  — John  14  :  19. 
"  God's  people  are  like  his  ancient  Israel.  They  have  en- 
emies who  will  harass  them  in  life,  but  whoever  or  whatever 
these  may  be,  sin,  poverty,  temptations,  trials,  fears,  doubt, 
Satan  himself,  a  death-bed  shall  be  the  death  of  all.  In  leaving 
life  we  leave  these  behind ;  death  is  their  destruction,  notowrs." 

When  sins  and  fears  prevailing  rise, 
And  fainting  hope  almost  expires, 

Jesus,  to  thee  I  lift  my  eyes, 

To  thee  I  breathe  my  soul's  desires. 

Art  thou  not  mine,  my  living  Lord  ? 

And  can  my  hope,  my  comfort  die — 
Fixed  on  thine  everlasting  word — 

That  word  which  built  the  earth  and  sky  ? 

If  my  immortal  Saviour  lives, 

Then  my  immortal  life  is  sure  : 
His  word  a  firm  foundation  gives ; 

Here  let  me  build,  and  rest  secure. 

Here  let  my  faith  unshaken  dwell ; 

Immovable  the  promise  stand-  ; 
Not  all  the  powers  of  earth  or  hell, 

Can  e'er  dissolve  the  sacred  bands. 

Here,  O  my  soul !  thy  trust  repose, 

If  Jesus  is  forever  mine  ; 
Not  death  itself — that  last  of  foes, 

Shall  break  a  union  so  divine. 


HYMXS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  ill 


"For  by  grace   ye  are   saved  through  faith,  and  that   not 
of  yourselves,  it  is  the  gift  of  God."  — Eph.  2  :  8. 

"It  is  not  long  days,  but  good  days  that  make  the  life 
glorious  and  happy,  and  our  dear  Lord  is  gracious,  who  short- 
eneth  the  way  to  glory,  so  that  the  crown  which  the  patriarch 
sought  for  many  hundred  years,  may  now  be  obtained  by  a 
child." 

Brief  life  is  here  our  portion, 

Brief  sorrow,  short-lived  care ; 
The  life  that  knows  no  ending, 

The  tearless  life  is  there  : 
Reward  of  grace,  how  wondrous  ! 

Short  toil — eternal  rest ! 
For  mortals,  and  for  sinners, 

A  mansion  with  the  blest ! 

That  we  should  look,  poor  wanderers, 

To  have  our  home  on  high 
That  worms  should  seek  for  dwellings 

Beyond  the  starry  sky  ! 
And  now  wTe  fight  the  battle, 

And  then  we  wear  the  crown 
Of  full  and  everlasting, 

And  passionless  renown ! 

I  know  not,  oh !  I  know  not 

What  social  joys  are  there  ; 
What  pure,  unfading  glory, 

What  light  beyond  compare  ; 
And  wrhen  I  fain  would  sing  them, 

My  spirit  fails  and  faints, 
And  vainly  strives  to  image 

Th'  assemblv  of  the  saints. 


112  HYMNS   FOR   THE   SICK-ROOM. 

There  is  the  throne  of  David, 

And  there  from  toil  released, 
The  shout  of  them  that  triumph, 

The  song  of  them  that  feast : 
O  garden  free  from  sorrow  ! 

O  plains  that  fear  no  strife  ! 
O  princely  bowers,  all  blooming  ! 

O  realm  and  home  of  Hie  ! 


"  Thou  shalt  guide  rue   by  thy  counsel,  and   afterward  re- 
ceive me  to  glory."  — Ps.  73  :  24. 

"  Religion  does  as  much  need  passive,  suffering  exemplifiers, 
as  heroes  of  action,  to  exemplify  it  by  flaming  zeal.  And,  I 
doubt  not,  the  unbelieving  world  would  be  more  impressed 
with  the  evidence  of  the  Divine  power  of  our  holy  religion  by 
seeing  a  Christian  of  holy  endowments,  meekly  submitting  to 
the  will  of  God,  as  all  his  brilliant  prospects  for  a  career  of 
active  usefulness  are  blotted  out,  and  patiently,  cheerfully  re- 
signing himself  to  a  life  of  pain,  and  inactivity,  and  gloom,  than 
by  the  active,  heroic  life  of  Paul  himself." 

O  Lord  !  my  best  desire  fulfill, 

And  help  me  to  resign 
Life,  health,  and  comfort  to  thy  will, 

And  make  thy  pleasure  mine. 

Why  should  I  shrink  at  thy  command, 

Whose  love  forbids  my  fears  ? 
Or  tremble  at  thy  gracious  hand 

That  wipes  away  my  tears  ? 

No  ;  rather  let  me  freely  yield 

What  most  I  prize  to  thee, 
Who  never  hast  a  good  withheld, 

Or  wilt  withhold  from  me. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE    SICK-ROOM.  113 

Thy  favor  all  my  journey  through 

Thou  art  engaged  to  grant ; 
What  else  I  want,  or  think  I  do, 

'Tis  better  still  to  want. 

Wisdom  and  mercy  guide  my  way — 

Shall  I  resist  them  both  ? 
A  poor  blind  creature  of  a  day, 

And  crushed  before  the  moth. 

But,  ah !  my  inward  spirit  cries, 

Still  bind  me  to  thy  sway, 
Else  the  next  cloud  that  veils  the  skies 

Drives  all  these  thoughts  away. 


"  But  now  they  desire   a  better   country,  that   is,  an  hea- 
venly."—Hebrews  11  :  16. 

"  Here  is  the  true  and  only  certain  remedy  against  the  fear 
of  death.  As  we  look  in  simple  faith  to  him  who  diedand  was 
buried,  and  rose  again  for  us;  as  we  realize  his  presence  in  the 
gloomy  vale,  rest  in  his  love,  and  stay  ourselves  upon  his  faith- 
ful promise,  we  shall  fear  no  evil.  Fear  not,  0  believer !  to  go 
over  this  Jordan !" 

There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign  ; 

Eternal  day  excludes  the  night, 
And  pleasures  banish  pain. 

There  everlasting  spring  abides, 

And  never-fading  flowers ; 
Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides 

That  heavenly  land  from  ours. 


114  HYMNS  FOR  THE    SICK-ROOM. 

Sweet  fields,  beyond  the  swelling  flood, 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green  ; 

So  to  the  Jews  fair  Canaan  stood, 
While  Jordan  rolled  between. 

But  timorous  mortals  start  and  shrink 

To  cross  this  narrow  sea, 
And  linger,  trembling,  on  the  brink, 

And  fear  to  launch  away,  n 

Oh !  could  we  make  our  doubts  remove — 
Those  gloomy  doubts  that  rise — 

And  see  the  Canaan  that  we  love 
With  unbeclouded  eyes  ; 

Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  stood, 
And  view  the  landscape  o'er — 

Not  Jordan's  stream,  nor  death's  cold  flood, 
Should  fright  us  from  the  shore. 


"  Into  thy  hands  I  commit  my  spirit.    Thou  hast  redeemed 
me,  O  Lord  God  of  truth!"—  Ps.  31  :  5. 

PRAYER  IX  PROSPECT  OF  DEATH. 

Now,  O  Holy  Father !  the  solemn  hour  is  at  hand 
when  I  must  depart  out  of  this  world,  and  go  the  way 
whence  I  shall  not  return.  But  blessed  be  thy  name 
that  though  time  to  me  shall  be  no  more,  yet  that  thou 
permittest  me  by  faith  to  look  unto  the  things  which, 
though  now  unseen,  are  eternal — to  have  a  glimpse  of 
that  better  land,  even  the  heavenly,  that  city  which 
has  foundations  that  can  never  be  moved,  whose  maker 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  115 

and  builder  is  God ;  that  city  in  which  there  shall  be  no 
need  of  the  sun  nor  of  the  moon  to  shine,  for  the  glory 
of  God  doth  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light 
thereof. 

Blessed  be  thy  name,  for  the  peace  and  joy  I  have  in 
believing  that,  when  absent  from  the  body,  I  shall  be 
present  with  the  Lord  —  that  as  thy  goodness  and 
mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life,  so  I 
shall  ere  long  be  admitted,  through  the  merits  of  my 
dear  Redeemer,  to  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for- 
ever. Then,  though  the  silver  cord  shall  soon  be  loos- 
ed, and  the  golden  bowl  be  broken,  and  the  pitcher  be 
broken  at  the  fountain,  and  the  wheel  broken  at  the 
cistern,  yet  shall  the  clods  of  the  valley  be  sweet  unto 
me,  when  my  rest  is  in  the  dust ;  for  there  my  Lord 
hath  lain,  and  sanctified  even  the  tomb  by  his  hallowed 
presence  ;  and  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and 
that  he  shall  stand  at  the  latter  day  upon  the  earth ; 
and  that  the  hour  is  coming  when  all  that  are  in  their 
graves  shall  hear  his  voice,  and  come  forth — they  that 
have  done  good,  unto  the  resurrection  of  life  —  and 
they  that  have  done  evil,  unto  the  resurrection  of  dam- 
nation. How  blissful  the  hope,  that  Christ  shall  then 
change  this  vile  body,  and  fashion  it  like  unto  his  own 
glorious  body,  and  I  shall  be  satisfied  when  I  awake 
with  his  likeness,  for  I  shall  see  him  as  he  is,  and  shall 
be  admitted  to  a  participation  of  those  great  blessings 
which  he  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him — which 
eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it  enter- 
ed into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive.  Then  indeed 
shall  death  be  swallowed  up  in  victory,  when  the  Lord 
himself  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  all  eyes. 


116  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Having  this  hope,  may  I  account  my  present  suffer- 
ings not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  here- 
after to  be  revealed  in  me.  For  I  have  not  come  unto 
the  mount  that  might  be  touched,  and  that  burned 
with  fire ;  nor  unto  blackness,  and  darkness,  and  tem- 
pest ;  but  unto  Mount  Zion,  unto  the  city  of  the  living 
God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  to  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of 
the  first  born,  which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to 
God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the 
new  Covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that 
speaketh  better  things  than  that  of  Abel. 

In  that  precious  blood  may  I  be  washed,  and  puri- 
fied, and  sanctified.  May  thy  work  of  grace  be  speed- 
ily perfected  in  my  heart — every  cloud  removed  which 
unbelief  would  interpose  to  prevent  my  seeing  thy 
glory  as  it  shines  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  an 
abundant  entrance  ministered  unto  me  into  thine  ever- 
lasting kingdom.  Then  may  I  join  with  all  spirits  of 
the  just  made  perfect  in  that  new  song  which  they  sing 
before  the  throne.  "  Blessing  and  honor  and  glory  and 
power  be  unto  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and 
to  the  Lamb  forever."     Amen. 

Through  sorrow's  night  and  danger's  path, 

Amid  the  deepening  gloom, 
We,  soldiers  of  a  heavenly  King, 

Are  marching  to  the  tomb. 

There,  when  the  turmoil  is  no  more, 

And  all  our  powers  decay, 
Our  cold  remains  in  solitude 

Shall  sleep  the  years  away. 


HYMXS   FOE  THE   SICK-ROOM.  117 

Our  labors  done,  securely  laid 

In  this  our  last  retreat, 
Unheeded  o'er  our  silent  dust 

The  storms  of  life  shall  beat. 

Yet  not  thus  lifeless,  in  the  grave, 

The  vital  spark  shall  lie ; 
For  o'er  life's  wreck  that  spark  shall  rise, 

To  seek  its  kindred  sky. 

These  ashes  too — this  little  dust — 

Our  Father's  care  shall  keep, 
Until  the  final  trump  shall  break 

The  long  and  dreary  sleep. 

Then  love's  soft  dew  o'er  every  eye 

Shall  shed  its  mildest  rays, 
And  our  long-silent  dust  shall  rise, 

With  shouts  of  endless  praise ! 


"  And  they  came  to  him,  and  awoke  him,  saying,  Master, 
master,  we  perish.  Then  he  arose,  and  rebuked  the  wind 
and  the  raging  of  the  water :  and  they  ceased,  and  there  was 
a  calm.  And  he  said  unto  them,  "Where  is  your  faith?"— 
Luke  8  :  24,  25. 

"Master,  carest  thou  not  that  we  perish  ?"  — Mark  4  :  38. 

"  You  have  entered  the  ship  with  Christ ;  what  do  you  ex- 
pect? Fine  weather.  Rather  look  for  wind,  tempests,  and 
waves  to  cover  the  vessel  till  she  begins  to  sink.  This  is  the 
baptism  with  which  you  must  first  be  baptized,  and  then  the 
calm  will  follow." 

The  billows  swell ;  the  winds  are  high  ; 

Clouds  overcast  my  wintry  sky  : 

Out  of  the  depths  to  thee  I  call ; 

My  fears  are  great,  my  strength  is  small. 


118  HYMNS   FOR   THE    SICK-ROOM. 

O  Lord  !  the  pilot's  part  perform, 
And  guide  and  guard  me  through  the  storm  ; 
Defend  me  from  each  threatening  ill ; 
Control  the  waves  ;  say:  "Peace!  be  still." 

Amidst  the  roaring  of  the  sea, 
My  soul  still  hangs  her  hope  on  thee  ; 
Thy  constant  love,  thy  faithful  care, 
Is  all  that  saves  me  from  despair. 

Dangers  of  every  shape  and  name 
Attend  the  followers  of  the  Lamb, 
Who  leave  the  world's  deceitful  shore, 
And  leave  it  to  return  no  more. 

Though  tempest-tossed,  and  half  a  wreck, 
My  Saviour  through  the  floods  I  seek ; 
Let  neither  winds  nor  stormy  rain 
Force  back  my  shattered  bark  again. 


"  Willing  rather  to  be  absent  from  the  body,  and   present 
with  the  Lord."  —  2  Cor.  5  :  8. 

" Absent  from  the  body,  and  present  with  the  Lord.  Me- 
thinks  there  is  a  heaven  comtained  in  the  first  part  of  these 
words,  absent  from  the  body ;  and  a  double  happiness  in  the 
last,  present  with  the  Lord" 

And  let  this  feeble  body  fail, 

And  let  it  faint  and  die, 
My  soul  shall  quit  this  mournful  vale, 

And  soar  to  worlds  on  high  ; 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  119 

Shall  join  the  disembodied  saints, 

And  find  its  long-sought  rest — 
That  only  bliss  for  which  it  pants — 

In  the  Redeemer's  breast. 

In  hope  of  that  immortal  crown, 

I  now  the  cross  sustain, 
And  gladly  wander  up  and  down, 

And  smile  at  toil  and  pain ; 
I  suffer  on  my  threescore  years 

Till  my  Deliverer  come, 
And  wipe  away  his  servant's  tears, 

And  take  his  exile  home. 

Oh !  what  hath  Jesus  done  for  me ; 

Before  my  raptured  eyes 
Rivers  of  life  divine  I  see, 

And  trees  of  Paradise. 
I  see  a  world  of  spirits  bright, 

Who  taste  the  pleasures  there  ; 
They  all  are  robed  in  spotless  white, 

And  conquering  palms  they  bear. 

Oh  !  what  are  all  my  sufferings  here, 

If,  Lord,  thou  count  me  meet 
With  that  enraptured  host  t'  appear, 

And  worship  at  thy  feet ! 
Give  joy  or  grief,  give  ease  or  pain, 

Take  life  or  friends  away ; 
But  let  me  find  them  all  again 

In  that  eternal  day ! 


120  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

"  And  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and  come  to 
Zion  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads  :  they 
shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness,  and  sorrow  and  sighing  shall 
flee  away."  — Isa.  35  :  10. 

"Mark  very  carefully,  brethren,  none  of  their  pains  or  tribu- 
lations, however  great,  secured  for  them  the  joyful  welcome 
into  the  city  of  the  living  God.  Oh  !  no.  '  They  washed  their 
robes  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.'  They 
fled  by  faith,  every  one  of  them,  as  poor  perishing  sinners,  to 
that  atoning  blood  which  clean seth  from  all  sin  ;  and  thus  their 
welcome  and  their  entrance  into  glory  was  procured.  See  to  it 
that  you  are  personally  interested  in  Christ,  and  then  all  shall 
be  well." 

Who  are  these  in  bright  array  ? 

This  innumerable  throng, 
Round  the  altar,  night  and  day 
Tuning  their  triumphant  song  ? 
"  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  once  slain, 
Blessing,  honor,  glory,  power, 
Wisdom,  riches,  to  obtain 
New  dominion  every  hour." 

These  through  fiery  trials  trod  ; 

These  from  great  affliction  came  ; 
Now  before  the  throne  of  God, 

Sealed  with  his  eternal  name  : 
Clad  in  raiment,  pure  and  white, 

Victor  palms  in  every  hand, 
Through  their  great  Redeemer's  might, 

More  than  conquerors  they  stand. 

Hunger,  thirst,  disease  unknown, 
On  immortal  fruits  they  feed  : 

Them  the  Lamb  amidst  the  throne 
Shall  to  living  fountains  lead  ; 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  121 

Joy  and  gladness  banish  sighs ; 

Perfect  love  dispels  their  fears  ; 
And,  forever  from  their  eyes 

God  shall  wipe  away  their  tears. 


"  Oh !  remember  not  against  us  former  iniquities :  let  thy 
tender  mercies  speedily  prevent  us,  for  we  are  brought  very 
low.  —  Ps.  79  :  8. 

11  God  often  withdraws  his  sensible  presence  from  his  people 
in  the  trying  hour,  that  they  may  walk,  even  in  the  dark  valley, 
by  faith,  and  not  by  sight  or  sense." 

Approach,  my  soul,  the  mercy-seat, 

Where  Jesus  answers  prayer  ; 
There  humbly  fall  before  his  feet, 

For  none  can  perish  there. 

Thy  promise  is  my  only  plea, 

With  this  I  venture  nigh  ; 
Thou  callest  burdened  souls  to  thee, 

And  such,  O  Lord,  am  I. 

Bowed  down  beneath  a  load  of  sin, 

By  Satan  sorely  pressed, 
By  war  without,  and  fear  within, 

I  come  to  thee  for  rest. 

Be  thou  my  shield  and  hiding-place, 

That,  sheltered  near  thy  side, 
I  may  my  fierce  accuser  face, 

And  tell  him,  "  Thou  hast  died." 

O  wondrous  love  !  to  bleed,  and  die, 

To  bear  the  cross  and  shame, 
That  guilty  sinners,  such  as  I, 

Might  plead  thy  gracious  name. 


122  HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"  Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall  fruit 
be  in  the  vines,  the  labor  of  the  olive  shall  fail,  and  the 
fields  shall  yield  no  meat ;  the  flocks  shall  be  cut  off  from 
the  fold,  and  there  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls  :  yet  I  will 
rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation." 
—  Habbakuk  3  :  17,  18. 

"  He  who  always  stands,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  close 
by  Christ,  secures  for  himself  that  all  things  work  together  for 
good." 

Jesus  I  know  hath  died  for  me — 
This  is  my  hope,  my  joy,  my  rest ! 

Hither,  when  hell  assails,  I  flee, 
And  look  into  my  Saviour's  breast : 

Away,  sad  doubts  and  anxious  fear  ! 

Mercy  is  all  that's  written  there  ! 

Though  waves  and  storms  go  o'er  my  head, 
Though  strength,  and  health,  and  friends  be 
gone; 

Though  joys  be  withered  all,  and  dead, 
And  every  comfort  be  withdrawn  : 

Steadfast  on  this  my  soul  relies, 

Father — thy  mercy  never  dies. 

Fixed  on  this  ground  will  I  remain, 
When  heart  shall  fail,  and  flesh  decay ; 

This  anchor  shall  my  soul  sustain, 

When  earth's  foundations  melt  away : 

Mercy's  full  power  I  then  shall  prove, 

Loved  with  an  everlasting  love. 


HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  123 


•*I   count    all   things   but    loss    for   the    excellency  of  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord."  —  Phil.  3  :  8. 

"  Why  are  not  the  followers  of  the  Lamb  more  eager  for 
their  rest  ?  Does  the  sailor,  tossed  by  storms,  long  once  more 
to  reach  his  home  ?  the  sick  man  rest  ?  Ah !  stupified  hearts  !  to 
love  a  toilsome,  painful  journey,  more  than  an  everlasting  home, 
whence  toils  and  dangers  are  banished  forever." 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings, 

Thy  better  portion  trace  ; 
Rise  from  transitory  things, 

Towards  heaven,  thy  native  place. 
Sun,  and  moon,  and  stars  decay, 

Time  shall  soon  this  earth  remove ; 
Rise,  my  soul,  and  haste  away 

To  seats  prepared  above. 

Rivers  to  the  ocean  run, 

Nor  stay  in  all  their  course  : 
Fire  ascending  seeks  the  sun, 

Both  speed  them  to  their  source. 
So  a  soul  new-born  of  God 

Pants  to  view  his  glorious  face  ; 
Upward  tends  to  his  abode, 

To  rest  in  his  embrace. 

Cease,  ye  pilgrims,  cease  to  mourn, 

Press  onward  to  the  prize  ; 
Soon  the  Saviour  will  return 

Triumphant  in  the  skies. 
Yet  a  season,  and  you  know 

Happy  entrance  will  be  given, 
All  our  sorrows  left  below, 

And  earth  exchanged  for  heaven. 


124  HYMNS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 


"  Who  shall  separate  us  from  the   love  of  Christ  ?"—  Boca. 
8  :  35. 

"  Our  most  beloved  friends  must  die  ;  and  we  must  die  ;  but 

death  shall  never  terminate  the  friendship  of  Jesus  with  his 

humble  flock.     That  sweet,  that  awful  word,  makes  him  ours 

forever." 

Tarry  with  me,  O  my  Saviour  ! 

For  the  day  is  passing  by  ; 
See  !  the  shades  of  evening  gather, 

And  the  night  is  drawing  nigh  : 
Tarry  with  me  !  tarry  with  me  ! 

Pass  me  not  unheeded  by. 

Dimmed  for  me  is  earthly  beauty  ; 

Yet  the  spirit's  eye  would  fain 
Rest  upon  thy  lovely  features  ; 

Shall  I  seek,  dear  Lord !  in  vain  ? 
Tarry  with  me,  O  my  Saviour  ! 

Let  me  see  thy  smile  again. 

Many  friends  were  gathered  round  me, 
In  the  bright  days  of  the  past ; 

But  the  grave  has  closed  above  them, 
And  I  linger  here  the  last : 

I  am  lonely  ;  tarry  with  me, 

,  Till  the  dreary  night  is  past. 

Dull  my  ear  to  earth-born  music  ; 

Speak  thou,  Lord,  in  words  of  cheer ; 
Feeble,  tottering  my  footstep, 

Sinks  my  heart  with  sudden  fear  : 
Cast  thine  arms,  dear  Lord  !  around  me, 

Let  me  feel  thy  presence  near. 


HYMNS  FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM.  125 

Faithful  Memory  paints  before  me 
Every  deed  and  thought  of  sin  ; 

Open  thou  the  blood-filled  fountain, 
Cleanse  my  guilty  soul  within  : 

Tarry,  thou  forgiving  Saviour, 
Wash  me  wholly  from  my  sin. 

Feeble,  trembling,  fainting,  dying, 

Lord,  I  cast  myself  on  thee  ; 
Tarry  with  me  through  the  darkness 

While  I  sleep,  still  watch  by  me 
Till  the  morning,  then  awake  me, 

Dearest  Lord,  to  dwell  with  thee  ! 


"  Surely  I  come  quickly,  amen,  even  so,  come  Lord  Jesus." 
—  Rev.  22  :  20. 

"  Secure  for  thy  sins  the  advocate  with  the  Father  ;  and  so, 
when  the  hour  cometh  that  thou  shalt  be  summoned  to  depart, 
thou  shalt  have  nothing  left  to  do  but  to  welcome  the  call* 
1  Now  is  the  accepted  time.  Do  it  while  the  evil  days  come 
not.  Do  it  before  it  must  be  undone  forever.'  '  And  the  Spirit 
and  the  Bride  say,  Come  ;  and  let  him  that  heareth  say,  Come  ; 
and  let  him  that  is  athirst  come  ;  and  whosoever  will,  let  him 
take  the  water  of  life  freely.     Amen.' " 

Arise,  and  come  to  Jesus  ! 

He  calleth  thee  to-day  ; 
The  busy  crowd  are  thronging 

The  broad  and  easy  way  ; 
No  loitering  in  the  foot-path, 

No  dallying  there  with  sin  ; 
The  narrow  gate  is  open, 

Arise  !  and  enter  in  ! 


126  HYMXS   FOR  THE   SICK-ROOM. 

Arise,  and  follow  Jesus  ! 

Wherever  he  may  lead ; 
Though  rough  the  path,  or  stormy, 

Press  on  with  all  thy  speed. 
His  feet  were  torn  and  bleeding, 

Who  trod  the  path  for  thee  ; 
But  where  his  rest  remaineth 

He  is — and  thou  shalt  be  ! 

Arise,  and  dwell  with  Jesus  ! 

The  end  is  drawing  nigh  ; 
Who  taught  thee  how  to  journey, 

Now  teacheth  how  to  die. 
Firm  in  his  strength  relying, 

Yield  up  thy  latest  breath  ! 
Then  rise  in  him  triumphant, 

The  conqueror  of  death  ! 


INDEX. 


Abide  with  me,  thou  gracious  Guide Macduff    21 

Afflicted  saint,  to  Christ  draw  near Fawcett     16 

Almighty  Father  of  mankind Logan     62 

And  let  this  feeble  body  fail Wesley  118 

And  wilt  thou  now  forsake  me,  Lord 5 

Approach,  my  soul,  the  mercy  seat Newton  121 

Are  the  days  of  darkness  many 79 

Arise,  and  come  to  Jesus Presbyterian  125 

Asleep  in  Jesus !  blessed  sleep Mackey     98 

Awake,  and  sing  the  song Hammond  105 

Blest  Comforter  divine 16 

Brief  life  is  here  our  portion Ill 

Children  of  God,  who  pacing  slow Bowdler     14 

Christ,  of  all  my  hopes  the  ground Windham    74 

Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above Wesley     34 

Deathless  principle,  arise Toplady    88 

Every  moment  brings  me  nearer Wingrove  109 

Faith  almost  changes  into  sight 75 

Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss Steele    76 

Forever  with  the  Lord Montgomery     68 

For  us,  the  conflict  and  the  toil 99 

Fountain  of  grace,  rich,  full,  and  free 107 

From  the  cross  uplifted  high Haweis    41 

God,  my  supporter  and  my  hope Watts  103 

God  of  my  life,  through  all  its  days Doddridge    51 


128  INDEX. 

God  of  my  life,  to  thee,  I  call Cowper  84 

Guide  me  0  thou  great  Jehovah Oliver  7 

Happy  soul,  thy  days  are  ended C.  Wesley  86 

Hope  of  our  hearts,  0  Lord  !  appear 106 

How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds Newton  33 

If  God  is  mine,  then  present  things 80 

I'm  but  a  stranger  here T.  R.  Taylor  102 

I  sojourn  in  a  vale  of  tears Mason  42 

Jesus,  full  of  all  compassion Turner  62 

Jesus  I  know  hath  died  for  me J.  Wesley  122 

Jesus,  in  sickness  and  in  pain Gallaudet  32 

Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul C.  Wesley  19 

Let  me  be  with  thee,  where  thou  art 108 

Lord,  I  believe  thy  every  word Coke  and  Asbury's  H.  B.  44 

Lord,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care Baxter  57 

My  days  are  gliding  swiftly  by 26 

My  God,  the  covenant  of  thy  love Doddridge  63 

My  God,  the  spring  of  all  my  joys Watts  90 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt Schmolk  38 

My  times  are  in  thy  hand 17 

Must  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone G.  N.  Allen  12 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee S.  F.  Adams  22 

Now  let  our  souls  on  wings  sublime Gibbons  45 

Oh  !  for  a  faith  that  will  not  shrink 56 

Oh !  for  an  overcoming  faith Watts  91 

Often,  my  God,  when  most  I  need 54 

Oh  !  let  our  heart  and  mind Coke  and  Asbury's  H.  B.  11 

O  Lord  !  how  happy  is  the  time JDoesler  70 

O  Lord  !  my  best  desires  fulfill Cowper  112 

O  sacred  head  !  now  wounded Gerhardt  64 

O  Saviour  !  whose  mercy Grant  81 

Oh  !  speak  of  Jesus,  other  names Invalid's  H.  B.  6 


INDEX.  129 

0  thou  God  !  who  hearest  prayer Conder    78 

0  thou  !  whose  mercy  guides  my  way Edmeston     23 

0  thou  !  to  whose  all-searching  sight J.  Wesley     93 

Pensive,  doubting,  fearful  heart Olney  Hymns      8 

Rest  for  the  toiling  hand 104 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings Cormick  123 

Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me Toplady     59 

Saviour,  I  can  welcome  sickness 67 

Tarry  with  me,  0  my  Saviour 124 

The  billows  swell,  the  winds  are  high Cowper  117 

There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood Cowper  92 

There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight Watts  113 

There  is  no  pain  that  I  can  bear 31 

Thou  art  my  hiding  place,  0  Lord Baffles  10 

Thou  art  the  way,  to  thee  alone Doane  49 

Though  hard  the  winds  are  blowing 35 

Thou  Lamb  of  God,  thou  Prince  of  Peace .  Coke  &  Asbun/s  H.  B.  39 

Thou  only  centre  of  my  rest 87 

Thousands,  0  Lord  of  hosts !  this  day Montgomery  48 

Thou  who  didst  stoop  below Martineau's  Coll.  72 

Through  sorrow's  night,  and  danger's  path H.  K.  White  116 

Thy  way,  0  God  !  is  in  the  sea Fawcett  18 

Thy  will  be  done  !  in  devious  way Bowring  85 

Thy  will  be  done  !  I  will  not  fear. Boscoe  58 

'Tis  my  happiness  below Newton  43 

Tossed  on  the  billows  far  and  wide Presbyterian  60 

We  journey  through  a  vale  of  tears B.  Barton  50 

We  love  thee,  Lord,  because  when  we 13 

We've  no  abiding  city  here Kelly  101 

When  I  can  trust  my  all  with  God Conder  73 

When  languor  and  disease  invade Toplady  36 

When  sins  and  fears  prevailing  rise Steele  110 

When  this  passing  world  is  done 58 


130  INDEX. 

Where  shall  the  weary  rest Button  82 

Who  are  these  in  bright  array Montgomery  120 

Why  should  a  living  man  complain 30 

Why  should  I  murmur  or  repine Macduff  40 

Why  should  we  start  and  fear  to  die Watts  83 

Wish  not,  dear  friends,  my  pain  away Keble  27 

With  tearful  eyes  I  look  around 77 

With  years  oppressed,  with  sorrow  torn .R.  Grant  97 

Your  harps,  ye  trembling  saints Toplady  24 


